


Rebel

by TaeStarr



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Louie's not evil he's just passionate, no longer just a one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaeStarr/pseuds/TaeStarr
Summary: The Duck family deals with the news that Donald has gone missing. Louie in particular is devastated by the news, and it leads him to make an incredibly rash decision.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this year I haven't been writing nearly as much as I'd have liked to, but a really awesome job opportunity (like, an 'oh-shit-i-have-a-career-now' type of job opportunity) came up about three months ago. Anyway, Nothing Can Stop Della Duck left me with this little idea and it's been nagging at me for a few weeks now, so I took the long weekend to draft this up. Enjoy!

“The mountain was raining fiery boulders on us, each like a meteor from outer space!” Della regaled, casting blueberries down upon her plate of breakfast in an edible reenactment of the scene.

“We had yet to decipher the riddle that would give us access to the crypt. We were stuck outside, each second taking us that much closer to a cataclysmic eruption. And then… BOOM! The volcano _explodes_ , and before we know it, there’s a wall of lava racing down the mountain straight toward us!”

Della sliced open the yolk of the eggs she had rested atop a mountain of hash browns. Thick, yellow liquid began racing down the contours of the pile of potatoes, threatening to envelop the poorly-made napkin cutouts of Scrooge, Donald, and herself that she had placed on the slopes. Around the table, three ducklings sat on the edge of their seats, enraptured by the tale. A fourth, significantly older duck leaned back in his captain’s chair, observing the spectacle with a wistful smile on his face.

“I was sure we were goners. _But then…”_ Della grabbed a mini pancake from the serving plate at the center of the table and tossed it onto the hill of hash browns. “Donald jumps up and rips the decorative shield off one of the huge statues around the entrance to the crypt! It’s large enough for all three of us to fit on with room to spare!” Della deftly moved the three vaguely duck-shaped cutouts onto the mini pancake just before the yolk overtook them. “Using a tent pole and a gravity blanket he’d packed, Donald fashioned a sort of canvas, attached it to the shield, and literally _sailed_ us to safety on a sea of molten rock!” Using her fingers, Della slide the pancake down to the bottom of the hash browns and across her plate, leaving behind a yellow streak of yolk.

All at once, the children began to bombard Della with simultaneous questions.

“What type of sail was it? A staysail or a spritsail?”

“ _Uncle Donald_ did that? There’s _no way_ Uncle Donald could do something that cool!”

“How do you expect anyone to eat that pancake when there’s yolk all over it?”

Della realized that at some point she had climbed up on top of the table. She hopped from the tabletop back into her seat, picking out Dewey’s question to respond to. “Your Uncle Donald is a fantastic adventurer under normal circumstances, but not _once_ have I seen him fail under pressure. I should have known we would be alright since he was there,” Della replied. The pride for her brother was obvious in the sound of her voice and the look on her face.

There were a few moments of silence. “Are… Are we talking about the same person?” Louie finally asked. “Is there _yet another_ uncle we’ve never met and have never heard of that just happens to share a first name with the accident-prone loser who raised us?” Louie didn’t get an immediate response, and, reading the offended looks in the room, added, “I’m not calling him a ‘loser’ in a mean way! I just mean that he literally _loses_ a lot. I love the man to death, but you have to admit, he is _constantly_ taking L’s.”

Mrs. Beakley entered the room carrying a fresh platter of mini pancakes. “Thank you, Bentina,” Scrooge said as she set the pancakes down on the table. Beakley didn’t seem to acknowledge Scrooge. She instead paused, opening her mouth to speak but stopping before any words came out.

Scrooge’s expression became inquisitive. “What is it, Bentina?”

“Mr. McDuck, I just got off the phone with…” Beakley started, trailing off as her eyes settled on the kids. “Sir, can I have a word with you in private?”

“It cannae wait until after breakfast?” Scrooge asked in reply. “This is the only time I get tae spend with me family before I head to the bin for the day.”

“This is important, Scrooge. Please.”

Scrooge let out an indignant snort before pushing himself away from the table, the legs of his chair loudly sliding across the floor of the dining room. He and Beakley disappeared through the entry portal into the hallway. Within seconds Della had launched into another death-defying anecdote, not allowing anyone any time to process the odd exchange that had just taken place.

 

\---

 

“And so there we were, two fourteen-year-old ducks face-to-face with the three snarling snouts of Cerberus. The arena we found ourselves in had hundreds of old bones scattered about, obviously belonging to previous victims of the beast. Things weren’t looking good for the Duck twins, no sir. Suddenly, the dog _lunges_ , teeth bare-”

“Della, lass, a moment, please?” Scrooge interrupted, calling out from the entry to the dining room. His voice was uncharacteristically timid. The triplets exchanged worried looks. Something was obviously up.

For a split-second, Della seemed to deflate. Scrooge had managed to eliminate all the momentum of the story she was telling. She quickly recovered, cheerfully instructing her boys to finish their breakfast so they’d have the energy they needed for the day ahead. Della vaulted over the table (when she could have just as easily walked around) and followed Scrooge out of the dining room and down the hallway, back toward Scrooge’s study.

Dewey was the first to voice what they were all thinking: “Something’s wrong.”

“Obviously,” Louie replied.

“Scrooge sounded legitimately worried,” Huey said pensively. “That’s not a tone I’ve heard him use very often. The last time I heard it…” Huey’s eyes went wide. “Do you think Magica is back?”

“Has it been long enough for her to recover? And is she a threat without her staff?” Dewey asked. “You know what? I _hope_ it’s her. The Shadow War was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!”

“You do remember how close we _all_ came to dying, right?” Louie replied acerbically.

Dewey scoffed. “Near-death experiences are like a once a week thing in this family, Louie. If Magica is back, we’ll just kick her butt again!”

“The Shadow War wasn’t a _‘near’-_ death experience, Dewey!” Louie yelled, exasperated. “In case you’ve forgotten: not everyone made it!”

“And that’s a good reason for us to stay focused, guys,” Huey interjected, stopping a potential altercation before it could start. “Something is wrong, and we need to find out. If it’s Magica, we need to start preparing ASAP.”

Dewey and Louie, having calmed down, nodded in agreement. The triplets slipped out of their chairs to head to Scrooge’s study.

Mrs. Beakley stepped in from the hallway to block their path. “Please, boys, take your seats and eat. You need to start the day with a hearty meal.”

“Tell us what’s going on,” Louie demanded. He gave Huey and Dewey a short nod, appealing for their support.

Huey stepped forward. “We can tell something is wrong, and we have a right to know what it is!”

Beakley’s expression was slightly flustered, as if to say _‘these boys are too observant for their own good.’_ “Please, boys,” Mrs. Beakley pleaded, “I promise you will be informed once your Uncle Scrooge assesses the situation. For now, please eat. An empty stomach will not-”

Dewey suddenly launched himself forward, darting between Beakley’s legs. She tried to put a hand out to intercept the child, but only managed to feel the fabric of his shirt as he passed by and sprinted down the hallway.

“Dewey, get back here this instant!”

Beakley knew that the command would not be obeyed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Huey and Louie ready to commit to a similar maneuver. This time she was ready. She scooped up both ducklings and rested them in the crook of her left elbow, flexing slightly to keep them trapped in place, almost like a firewood carry. It probably wasn’t the most comfortable position for them to be in (in fact, it certainly was _not_ comfortable if Louie’s protests were any indication), but they weren’t being hurt and it prevented them from running off like their brother.

Beakley took off in pursuit of the third triplet, but Dewey had a five second lead and Scrooge’s study was just down the hall. There wasn’t much she could do to prevent him from simply barging in, which is exactly what he did.

Dewey shoved the door to Scrooge’s study open with all his might, causing it to slam loudly against the doorstop. “I thought we agreed on ‘no more secrets,’ Uncle Scrooge! Tell us what’s-”

Beakley entered the study with the other two brothers in tow. “Sir, I’m extremely sorry. It’s hard to keep a handle on all three.”

“It’s alright, Bentina,” Scrooge said softly, slowly. “We were going to let the kids finish breakfast, but it seems they had other plans. Go ahead and leave them here.”

Beakley set Huey and Louie down on each side of their brother and quietly shuffled out of the room. Huey and Louie got their first glimpse of Scrooge and their mother. The two adults were maintaining their composure fairly well, but a collection of tears were visible along their lower eyelids.

Something was _very_ wrong.

“Lads…” Scrooge began.

“Uncle Scrooge, I…” Della interrupted, swallowing heavily and exhaling before continuing. “I think I need to be the one to tell them.” Scrooge gave an encouraging nod and his cellphone began to ring. After seeing the caller ID, Scrooge said “It’s the chief of police, I need to take this.” He left the room and closed the door behind him. Huey caught a glimpse of the large sheet of parchment splayed out on Scrooge’s desk. It appeared to be a map of the greater Duckburg area and the surrounding coastal ranges.

“Seriously, mom, what’s wrong?” Dewey asked, unable to hide the tinge of rising panic in his voice.

Della approached the trio and knelt down. She spoke softly and as confidently as she could, but her voice still wavered. “Boys, we… we got a call this morning, from the resort the family sent Donald to…”

Immediately, the triplets’ minds jumped to the worst conclusion. Huey simply uttered the word “no.” It seemed to capture what all three were feeling.

Della closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Donald never arrived at the resort. As far as we can tell, the last person to see him was Launchpad, when he dropped Donald off at the bus stop.”

The triplets each felt a massive weight lifted off their shoulders. Uncle Donald wasn’t dead. At least, there was a possibility that he was still alive. The weight returned when they realized that no one knew where Donald was.

A silence fell over the room as Della struggled to find the words to say next.

“We… we have to find him!” Huey stammered, breaking the silence. He was getting increasingly worked up. “We have to find Uncle Donald! Why are we just standing here?” Huey looked ready to sprint out of the room and initiate the search himself. Della laid a feathered hand on his shoulder, and Huey calmed down enough to stop hyperventilating.

“Uncle Donald is… missing?” Dewey asked, sounding unconvinced. “No, mom, it can’t be. You _just_ got back. We haven’t even had a chance to get the whole family together.”

Della laid her other hand on Dewey’s shoulder. Both of the ducklings relaxed. “Boys, Uncle Scrooge has already put in the call. The local authorities are getting their resources together, and McDuck Enterprises is doing the same. We’re going to find him. _We’re_ going to find him. Uncle Scrooge and I are going to be out there looking, and you three are coming. You three…” Della’s voice trailed off as her eyes rested upon Louie’s figure. Unnoticed, Louie had walked to the corner of the room and sat down facing the wall, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. The hood from his hoodie had been pulled over his head and the strings pulled taut. He was being quiet, but Della could see the spasms of his body as he sobbed.

“Louie…”

Della crawled over to her youngest child and embraced him from behind, resting her chin on the top of his head. Louie didn’t accept the embrace, nor did he push her off. Huey and Dewey joined the group hug and his demeanor did not change. Louie simply did not acknowledge their presence.

“Louie…” Della repeated at a whisper. “Remember what I said earlier? Your Uncle Donald is a fantastic adventurer, and I’ve _never_ seen him fail under pressure. If I can survive for a decade on the moon, your Uncle Donald _will_ triumph over whatever situation he’s in right now. I’m not half the trooper that my brother is.”

“Uncle Donald is going to be alright, Louie. Everything is going to be alright,” Huey whispered.

“We’re going to find him, lil’ bro,” Dewey added.

Louie’s soft sobs had dwindled into light sniffles. Della shifted to Louie’s front and gently removed the hood from his head. With a finger, Della lifted Louie’s chin until their eyes met. When Della saw Louie’s puffy red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, she almost lost her composure. She managed to resist the tears that had been threatening to fall since Scrooge told her the news.

“Louie, I _promise_ we’re going to find him, and I’m going to give him a butt-kicking for scaring us like this. You won’t have to wait ten years to see him again.”

At this, Louie’s dejected demeanor changed.

“How… How can you be so selfish?” Louie uttered. Della balked, taken aback by the question. “How could _we all_ be so selfish?” Louie scrambled to his feet and out of his family’s embrace. He turned to them and rubbed the moisture off his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“So mom comes back after ten years on the moon,” Louie began, his voice saturated with venom. “ _Ten years_ during which Uncle Donald held onto that sliver of hope that he’d see her again. Huey, Dewey, think for a second what it’d be like for one of us to go missing like that for a decade. _Think_ about what the moment would be like when we were reunited. Uncle Donald deserves to have that moment more than anyone else ever has. Mom showed up on our doorstep more than a week ago! We told her that Donald was on vacation and left it at that. Like he’s just a footnote, an overlooked detail in our lives. The man who _raised_ us has been missing for more than a week and _nobody_ noticed! Nobody thought to call the resort and tell him to come home? He would’ve dropped his whole vacation and moved mountains to get home if he knew mom was here! If we had simply _called,_ we would’ve found out he was missing sooner!”

By this point, Louie’s tears had returned. “The _one_ duck in our family with any selflessness is the one who appears to have suffered the consequences for our selfishness. We’re a selfish family. And that goes for Uncle Scrooge, for mom, for you two, and _certainly_ for me. At least I can admit how self-centered I am. And I have no reason not to pivot _hard_ into it.”

With that, Louie stormed out of the room and past a bewildered Scrooge who was still on the phone with the local authorities in the hallway. Della tried to move to follow him, tried to call out his name, but found herself paralyzed by his words. The façade of strength she had erected for her children failed. She began to sob in earnest, collapsing into a heap on the floor.

 

\---

 

Louie had been walking around downtown Duckburg for a few hours. His family was _still_ trying to call him; he’d probably declined well over a hundred calls at this point. Louie was strolling aimlessly, waiting for the hoarseness of his voice from crying to go away. There was only one person Louie wanted to talk to right now, and that person wouldn’t take him seriously if he sounded in any way uncertain.

“I’m in,” Louie rehearsed. Yup, he sounded fairly normal now. He could do this. Louie scrolled to the contact in his phone, and didn’t hesitate to hit call. In a strange way, this lack of hesitation proved to Louie that he truly was ready to take this step. He felt oddly liberated.

“What is it, kid?” asked an apathetic voice.

“Goldie, I’m in. No ifs, ands, or buts. I’m sure this time,” Louie stated with true confidence. He meant it.

Goldie sighed into her phone. “Look, you sound pretty serious, but I’m going to spell it out for you one more time: if you’re going to be my apprentice, it means that you’ll need to _abandon_ your family. I can’t be much clearer about it than that.”

“What family?”

“Now _that’s_ what I like to hear, kiddo! And here I thought that all three of you babies were goody two-shoes sticks in the mud like your great uncle. I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong,” Goldie said with a chuckle. “Are you ready to make tons of cash, kid?”

“It’s all I’ve ever really cared about.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldie is uncertain if she should take Louie under her wing. Her attempts to push him away bring them both much more trouble than either expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, everyone! I posted the first chapter of this as a one shot without any plans to expand on the idea, but this community's response has inspired me. Thank you all again for the Kudos, comments and whatnot. It truly means a lot.  
> I do have a general idea of where I want this story to go. I've got most of the major story beats plotted out, I just gotta fill in the gaps when I find the inspiration to do so. I think, in total, it'll be six or seven chapters of about this length.  
> As such, updates will probably be fairly slow and sporadic. But hopefully I'll see it through to the end!

Goldie sipped on her drink, her eyes not leaving the entrance to the bar. She had seen a century’s worth of dirty, dingy dives in locations all across the world, and this one in particular was up there with the dirtiest and dingiest.

She had been legitimately excited to work with this kid (she’d already forgotten his name) when he’d called a few hours earlier. There were few things in life she enjoyed more than making Scrooge angry, and using one of his kin against him was a surefire way to make him go absolutely apoplectic.

That was her sole motivation. That’s why she had agreed to take this kid _(seriously, what was his name again?)_ on as an apprentice. She quickly realized that this was a tad impulsive. She wasn’t even sure how old he was. Maybe thirteen? Surely he’d make for nothing but dead weight on the types of adventures she liked to go on. She could be a mentor, but she refused to be a chaperone.

That’s why she decided to find a way to weasel out of the agreement. She told the kid to meet her at this hole in the wall in the middle of the worst neighborhood in Duckburg at dusk. She doubted anyone would be courageous enough to walk these dark streets alone, let alone a literal child. She hoped he’d just give up. Next time he called, she’d berate him for being a coward then tell him the deal was off. She’d ground this whole operation before it could take flight.

She laughed a genuine, hearty laugh when she saw a duckling walk into the room. He walked with his back straight and his head held high; it was _hilariously_ obvious that this was simply for show and the kid was seconds away from laying an egg out of fear.

Goldie still had an opportunity to wash her hands of this. She could easily tell him that she was no longer interested, and she’d drive him back to Scrooge’s manor and they’d never interact ever again. That would be the smart thing to do.

But it wouldn’t be the fun thing to do. And Goldie liked fun things.

The kid had made it this far, which was further than the vast majority of kids his age would have. Goldie realized that he was even _younger_ than she thought: there was no way he was a teenager, and even calling him a “pre-teen” might be a stretch. He couldn’t be older than eleven.

Practically a _toddler_.

“You must be Miss O’Gilt. My name is Louie Duck, heir to-”

“I know who you are, kid. Sit,” Goldie interrupted with as much apathy in her tone as she could muster. _Louie! That’s what it was! I never would’ve remembered it!_ The kid – Louie – hopped up into the chair across from Goldie, sticking his hands into the pockets of his green hoodie and looking around, quickly scanning his environment. Goldie could see his eyes travel to the various exits, ones he could use if he needed to make a quick escape. That was a surprisingly shrewd thing for him to do; maybe the kid wouldn’t be as useless as she thought.

A few seconds after taking his seat, Louie finally spoke up. His beak curled into a sly smirk as he gestured to the mess all around him, deadpanning, “so _this_ is what the five-star lifestyle is like?”

Despite herself, Goldie actually chuckled at the remark. This kid was full of surprises. Was this such a bad idea after all? Goldie quickly swallowed what was left of her drink. “So, kid, why would you rather be on my crew than your Uncle Scrooge’s? In case you’re unaware: the fact that he’s the richest duck in the world means he’s richer than me.”

“You’re not as rich as Scrooge, but that’s only because you didn’t start a multi-faceted multi-national corporation like he did!” Louie began. “I’m not interested in the little details of running a business. I’m interested in making bank with a shady get rich quick scheme, then making _more_ bank with other shady get _richer_ quick schemes! I’m sure you can relate?” Goldie gave a small, noncommittal nod, and Louie continued. His demeanor darkened. “Not to mention, I’m not interested in paying lip-service to ‘doing the right thing’ while being an insanely selfish miser behind the scenes.”

“Whoa, whoa, kid,” Goldie said, giving a “calm down” gesture with both hands. “If you want to complain about your family, hire a therapist. You’re not going to find a sympathetic ear here.”

Louie rolled his eyes. “All I’m saying is…” his voice trailed off as he pensively bit his lower lip. After taking a few seconds to find the right words, Louie continued, “The world is going to know my name, and it’s going to know _exactly_ who I am. There will be only one Louie Duck. There won’t be a _real_ Louie Duck and then a squeaky-clean, heavily focus-grouped version of Louie Duck that the public sees.”

“How noble,” Goldie replied sarcastically. She expected a sarcastic response in kind, but the child seemed to deflate a bit, like he was actually hurt by her words. “Look, kid, your motivations and goals _do not matter_ to me as long as they don’t interfere with my own. The quicker you adopt the same attitude, the better.” Louie nodded slowly as he processed Goldie’s words. She was the ultimate example of living solely for oneself at all times. It obviously worked for her. He was going to make it work for him too.

“Whatever, Goldie. I feel like we’re talking circles around- oh _crap_.” Louie quickly pulled his hoodie over his head and turned away from the rest of the room, as if to avoid being seen.

“Louie, kid, if they were going to kick you out of here like they’re legally required to do, they would have done so by now.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Louie spat back. “You brought me to a _beagle_ bar?”

Goldie looked toward the entrance. A seemingly never-ending cascade of Beagle Boys was streaming into the bar. Someone turned on some loud trap music. The mood instantly changed from relaxed to turnt. Goldie scowled. These brutes were annoying and obnoxious when they _weren’t_ drunk. Her gaze returned to the kid across from her. He was still staring into the wall with his hoodie up, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“This isn’t a beagle bar. This is a bar that beagles happen to be at tonight. And so what?” Goldie scoffed. “You’re scared of a few Beagle Boys? They’re like bees: leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone. You don’t have any plans to smack the hive, right?”

“The hive has already been smacked! You remember who my great uncle is, right?” Louie whispered exasperatedly. “Our families don’t exactly get along! Oh, and, uh… I might have crashed Ma Beagle’s last birthday with my siblings. Long story. These guys know my name, know my face, and they totally want to smash it in!”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Goldie snickered, rising from her seat and evidently gearing up to leave. For the first time all night, Louie’s face showed true fear, not at all masked by his usual veneer of indifference.

“You can’t just _leave_ me here, Goldie! Unless you want a dead child weighing on your conscience! And I _will_ haunt you!”

Goldie laughed. “Yea, yea, I know. I’ll get you out of here. But you should see the look on your face, kid!” As her laughter subsided, she sighed and looked around, trying to decide the best route to take to sneak Louie out of the establishment. Unfortunately, every single exit seemed to be blocked by a rowdy group of Beagle Boys. “Alright, kid, we’re gonna get out of here,” Goldie instructed. The fear in Louie’s expression was still palpable. “I want this to go as cleanly as possible, too. For that to happen, you need to follow my lead. I can trust you?” Louie just nodded. Goldie could see tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. Louie had made a good first impression, better than she expected, but maybe this child was not ready to enter her world of high-stakes adventuring. Well, it was too late now.

“Here, take my hand. We’re going to walk to the nearest exit. If we get stopped by anyone, then you’re my son and you have no idea who Louie Duck is. You got this?”

“I’ve got this, mom,” Louie replied with an uneasy smirk. Goldie was glad that he was back to being sarcastic. It was annoying, but it would make things _leagues_ easier than if he were a crying, terrified mess.

“Let’s get something clear, kid: you will _never_ call me that again.”

Goldie started to walk with the child’s hand in hers, but Louie didn’t start walking with her. Goldie was essentially dragging Louie across the floor of this filthy bar.

“Kid, I swear I’ll ditch you here before I carry you out,” Goldie whispered angrily. “Nothing personal, it’s a matter of pride.”

“I’m sorry!” Louie whisper-yelled back. “It’s like my legs refuse to listen to my mind because they know how suicidal it is to walk into a _sea_ of Beagle Boys!”

“We’ll be fine. Just follow my lead. I thought you said you’ve got this?”

“Sure, whatever, can we please just go?” Louie whined. “I’d prefer to get to the ‘almost dying’ part so it’s out of the way, instead of prolonging the process like this.”

Goldie didn’t move, raising an eyebrow at the borderline-panicking child in front of her. “Don’t use that tone with me, kid. I don’t like it.”

Louie laughed anxiously. “Alright, _mom._ ”

“I am _three_ seconds away from throwing you to these piranhas, kid.”

“If you don’t like being called ‘mom,’ you should probably stop doing extremely mom things like telling me to watch my tone.”

_God this kid is annoying. I’m telling him to scram the moment we’re out of here._

Goldie roughly snatched Louie’s hand into her own and started to walk again.

“Oh, well… nonono, yeah, this isn’t gonna work,” Louie advised nasally as his legs once again gave out, leaving Goldie to drag him. In a fit of frustration, Goldie brought Louie to his feet with a forceful yank. Unfortunately, she pulled a little too hard, and her elbow shot back, right into a large tray with a dozen pints of beer. The tray and its contents spilled all over the _insanely_ large Beagle Boy who was holding it. A dozen glasses fell to the floor and most of them shattered.

All conversation stopped. By some awful miracle, the music stopped at the same time too. The bar went from raucous to silent in zero seconds flat. Louie tried to the best of his ability to hide behind Goldie, clinging to her side.

And all eyes were on Goldie, Louie, and an obviously angry, beer-soaked beagle that looked like he was made of muscle.

“You just messed up _bad,_ lady.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “It was an accident!” She replied lackadaisically, almost singing the words. Even at a time like this, she couldn’t keep the disinterest out of her voice.

“Apologize, or I’m going to beat some sense into that dumb blonde head of yours!” the Beagle Boy demanded, stepping into Goldie’s personal space and bending down to put his face in hers. Goldie stared him down, not breaking eye contact. The two remained locked in an intense staring contest for many seconds, giving Louie a chance to peer around the room. His eyes met _dozens_ of other eyes around the room, each pair belonging to his potential murderer. He was terrified.

The large beagle drew back, shooting a glance around Goldie to where Louie was cowering behind her. Louie did everything he could to avoid eye contact. “I can’t _believe_ you brought your little _brat_ into a place like this,” he taunted.

“First of all, he’s not _my_ …” Goldie began, catching herself before she completely blew Louie’s cover. “Look, we were on our way out. How about-”

“Wait a minute, I know this kid from somewhere…”

Louie audibly gulped. This had all been such a terrible idea. But he couldn’t go back to his family. Not after what he said to them. And Louie still knew that deep down, he believed everything he had said: his family was full of selfish people living selfish lives, himself included. At least he could admit it.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t rather be with them at this moment. If Huey and Dewey were with him, if Uncle Scrooge were with him, if mom – his _real_ mom – were with him, then he’d trust that everything would turn out alright. With them, it always did. Without them…

Louie was lost in these thoughts when Goldie threw the first punch.

“Find a place to hide, kid! It might take me a while to take care of _all_ of them!”

Things got very chaotic very quickly. Louie scrambled over the bar, falling into the aisle behind it where the bartender, a middle-aged dog of some sort, was already cowering. As he did so, he watched Goldie – a woman more than one hundred years old – throw two Beagle Boys off of her and across the room. The brutes were each easily three times her size. Louie would have admired how impressive it was if he wasn’t scrambling for a hiding spot.

From his hiding spot, Louie couldn’t see the action, he could only hear the sound of glass breaking, angry cursing, and pained yells (none of which seemed feminine). Louie braved peeking his head above the bar to watch. The centenarian weaved below a thrown fist, countered with an uppercut to the offender’s jaw, and then jumped high into the air. As she jumped, another Beagle Boy threw another punch, accidentally knocking out his own brother as Goldie soared overhead. She deftly kicked him and another beagle in the face simultaneously, sending both unconscious to the floor.

A veritable pile of unconscious beagles was accumulating in a neat circle around Goldie. Louie was stunned; she was actually going to do it! She was taking on _at least_ forty Beagle Boys and _winning!_

Then, before Louie knew it, Goldie had both her arms restrained by an attacker who managed to sneak up on her. From behind, a beagle got Goldie’s arms firmly pinned behind her back. Another Beagle Boy (in fact, it was the first Beagle Boy, the one soaked in beer) approached from her front, cracking his knuckles.

“All you had to do is apologize. Now… well, you’re not going to leave here with any teeth.”

“Look, buddy,” Goldie pleaded with a nervous laugh, “I think we’re letting our egos get ahead of us here. Let me buy you a drink, maybe we can-”

The first blow to her head made her ears ring. The second made her see double. She had taken more punches than she could count over the years, but these ones seemed extra potent. Maybe it was her age.

Louie couldn’t watch. He ducked back down behind the bar just before the beagle’s first swing. He could hear the impact of every punch and each one of Goldie’s pained grunts. He felt something wet fall on his knees. He didn’t even know when he had started crying.

Crying. Louie had done a lot of that today. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was the one who cried the most out of all his siblings. He was prone to emotional outbursts and had a low tolerance for pain and for fear, especially compared to the other members of his family. He was the baby of the family, and boy, did he act like it.

But that was part of the reason he made the decision to walk away from his old life: Louie thought that, just maybe, going off on his own would force him to be more courageous. That Goldie would teach him, as her apprentice, to have some grit. Some toughness.

Louie brought his face out of his hands and looked around. On a small shelf under the bar, he spotted a long barbeque lighter. Across from it was a small display lined with expensive spirits. Louie scrambled on his hands and knees, grabbing the lighter and heading to the liquor display. Along the bottom row of bottles he saw one labeled “EVERCLEAR – 190 PROOF GRAIN ALCOHOL.” Louie had no idea what that meant until he pulled the corked lid off the bottle. Just the scent of the nearly pure alcohol made him gag. Louie covered his nose with one hand and poured a little bit of the alcohol onto the floor with the other before sparking the lighter and bringing the flame to the puddle on the floor. The liquid caught fire and burned up fairly quickly, leaving the floor completely dry.

_“Hey, kid, don’t waste that! It costs money!”_ the bartender whispered harshly from his hiding spot.

“You sound like my uncle…” Louie said under his breath. He looked up and made eye contact with the terrified bartender. “Look, man, I’ve got an idea. All you have to do is part ways with this bottle.”

The dog’s expression consolidated into one of resolve. “No.”

_“What do you mean, no?”_ Louie shot back.

“No. That stuff is expensive.”

“I don’t have time for this argument, dude! If I don’t rescue this woman, they’re gonna kill her. And then they’re gonna come over here and kill me!” As Louie spoke, he watched the bartender deflate more and more.  “And then you’ll have a dead child – one of Scrooge McDuck’s nephews no less – in your bar, and the government will shut your business down. Don’t even get me _started_ on the media storm you’ll have to deal with. They’ll be frogmarching you up the courthouse steps, asking why you let this poor child _die,_ and-”

 “Okay, geez, kid, I get it. Take the bottle,” the bartender replied, exhaling dejectedly. “Wait a minute, did you say you’re related to Scrooge McDuck?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. I’d like to apologize for a few things: first, for what’s happened to your bar tonight.” The whole establishment had basically been turned upside down. There wasn’t a single table or chair still on its legs. There were some blood stains on various spots on the floors and walls. “Secondly, I want to apologize for lying earlier. I said the only thing you needed to do for my plan to work is to part ways with the bottle. Well, there’s actually something else I need you to do.”

 

\---

 

“If I could have _everyone’s_ attention please!”

Somehow, this worked. Everyone still conscious – which somehow included Goldie, despite a solid minute of blows to the head – turned their attention to the small child standing atop the bar with a metal colander on his head.

“My name is Louie Duck, heir to the fortune of the one and only _Scrooge McDuck!”_

“I _knew_ I recognized this kid!” said the buff beagle who had been beating Goldie. “This is one of those brats who crashed Ma’s party! We’ve hit the jackpot tonight, boys!”

“Kid,” Goldie began, huffing and puffing with exhaustion, “what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

The rest of the beagles (those still conscious, at least), raised a cheer the reverberated throughout the bar. “Ma’s put _quite the bounty_ on your head, you runt,” one of the beagles yelled out.

“Sounds exciting! Well then, which one of you is gonna come get me?” Louie asked nonchalantly. In that moment, Louie realized that his fear had entirely evaporated. He felt secure, confident. And, as strange as it was, this might be the most fun he’s had in a while.

“Oh no, we’re not falling for that one again. You’re not gonna get us to turn on each other!”

“Oh, darn!” Louie mocked, giving an exaggerated snap of his finger and stamp with his foot. “Well, I’m out of ideas then! I guess I give up!” Louie held both arms out in front of him with his wrists pressed against each other, as if an officer were about to put zip tie handcuffs on him.

“I’m not taking _any_ chances here,” the buff beagle said with an evil grin. The beagle charged, jumping in the air, rearing his fist back for a superman punch. Suddenly, the bartender pops up just behind the bar on which Louie is standing. The bartender’s cheeks were puffed and he looked extremely uncomfortable. Louie shifted the colander to shield his face, using the holes in the utensil to maintain sight. He grabbed the lighter and sparked it, holding it about a foot in front of the bartender’s face.

The bartender began to spray everclear out of his mouth in a foamy mist of alcohol and saliva. The mist traveled through the flame of the lighter and ignited, sending a literal cloud of flame in the direction of the incoming beagle. The beagle recoiled and fell to the ground, rolling in pain. Louie could see that the flames had burned off the beagle’s eyebrows.

Another pair of beagles began to attack as well, and the bartender hadn’t yet reloaded, so to speak. Thinking on his feet, Louie grabbed the soda hose and sprayed the two assailants, who fell to the ground coughing and sputtering.

Louie looked back at the bartender, who still hadn’t put another round of everclear in his mouth. Louie gave an exasperated gesture telling the man to hurry up, but he just shook his head.

“Sorry kid, that stuff’s _way_ too strong. I was barely able to get it in my mouth the first time!”

Louie responded with an annoyed grunt and looked around. Another few beagles were advancing. Louie took the metal colander off his head and pelted one of the charging beagles with it. Louie pulled with all his might and ripped the soda hose from the bar, sticking the hose into the bottle of alcohol. The nozzle rested comfortably on the neck of the bottle, and Louie pulled the trigger. Alcohol was pulled through the hose and out the nozzle in a misty spray.

Perfect.

Louie hopped down from the bar and met his would-be attackers head on with his MacGyvered flamethrower. With each burst of flame, another couple of Beagle Boys would turn and flee. “That’s right, you beagle blockheads!” Louie heckled. “Give up now, I’m not afraid to burn every follicle of fur off your bodies!”

The last beagle to run was the one keeping Goldie captive. As Louie approached with his flamethrower, the beagle turned and retreated, vanishing out the main entrance to the bar. Goldie slumped to the ground and dragged herself to the nearest wall, laying her back against it. She had some nasty cuts and bruises on her face. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, taking slow, long breaths. Louie rushed over and knelt at her side.

“Goldie, are you alright?”

“Kid, just look at me. You _have_ to know how stupid a question that is.”

“I’m so sorry, this is my fault,” Louie blubbered out. “I… I should have acted quicker, and I-”

“Kid, I’m the one who told you to come here. Full disclosure, I wanted out of our little agreement and didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to actually show up!”

“Oh…” Louie replied, his voice betraying just how demoralized he was. “…well, I _did_ show up, and look where my stupidity got us. I understand why you wouldn’t want to work with me. Here,” Louie stood up straight and offered a hand to help Goldie up.

Goldie responded to that with laughter. A lot of laughter. The type of unfiltered, maniacal laughter that leaves one gasping for air. Louie gave her a confused look.

Goldie took a few moments to collect herself. “Kid – Louie, right? That was _exhilarating!_ When you first walked in, everything about you screamed _‘useless!’_ ” Goldie brought herself to her feet.

“Geez, thanks,” Louie replied sourly.

“But I was _obviously_ wrong, Louie! I should have known better, you do have Scrooge’s blood in you, after all. That makeshift flamethrower was _genius!_ With a good teacher and a little bit of hands-on experience, you could be almost as good as me one day!” Goldie reached her hand out for a handshake. “Let’s do this, Louie.”

Louie studied the outstretched hand in front of him contemplatively for a few seconds. He looked up to Goldie’s eyes and saw nothing but resolve on her face. Louie’s expression changed to match hers. Louie gave an aloof grin and firmly shook Goldie’s hand.

“Let’s do this, Goldie. But first, we should _seriously_ consider getting you to a hospital.”

“I don’t _do_ hospitals, kid. Not unless I absolutely have to. I don’t have insurance,” Goldie replied.

Louie looked incredulous. “You… You’re a _billionaire,_ right? How do you not have insurance?”

“You think I’m going to give $500 or more every month to some shady insurance conglomerate?” Goldie jeered. "I know first aid, I can treat some cuts and bruises!”

Louie scanned Goldie’s banged up face. “I’d be much more worried about concussions… and brain hemorrhaging.”

“Ech, I’m fine,” Goldie quipped, dismissing Louie’s concerns. “I’m parked out back, we’ll rest up back at a little place I own out here, and we’ll make our way to Catalina Island in the morning? There’s an old legend about a cavern there that I’ve been meaning to check out.”

“You refuse to pay for insurance even though you’re extremely rich, and now you want to set off on a death-defying adventure 12 hours after almost being killed?” Louie asked in disbelief. Goldie just stared back blankly in response, as if to say _“duh.”_

“You and Uncle Scrooge really are perfect for each other.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Duck-McDuck family adds Louie to the list of "members of our family that we need to find". Goldie and Louie set off on their first real adventure together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had about 2500 words of this chapter written before I decided to chuck it all out cuz it was bad. I started from scratch, but I still kinda struggled with writing this chapter. It's mostly an information dump to set up for more exciting things in future chapters.  
> Thanks again for the kudos and comments and everything! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story! I’ll try not to have a three week gap between this update and the next, but I can’t promise anything.

Goldie did not own a car that reflected her insane wealth. It was an older, rugged-looking jeep, but well maintained; Goldie obviously cared much more about utility than status. Louie looked at the time listed on her radio when she started the car. It was after 10:00, well past Louie’s bedtime. The drive to Goldie’s property took almost half an hour; she owned a piece of property along the sheer coastal cliffs several miles outside the city. Louie fell asleep at some point during the ride – he’d forgotten what it was like to sleep in a car because Launchpad drove him everywhere – and when he awoke he found himself alone in the jeep’s passenger seat, still secured behind his seatbelt. Waking up in an unfamiliar place was disorienting, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what had happened earlier that night.

Groggily, Louie climbed out of the vehicle and assessed his surroundings. He was obviously in Goldie’s garage, and she had a similar problem as Scrooge: random treasures were packed into various cases and boxes and stacked haphazardly throughout the room. Louie felt the urge to scour through the containers to look for something valuable, but his desire to find a bed took precedence. He also realized, after a few moments of thought, that stealing from Goldie was probably not a good idea if he wanted her to mentor him. As the fog of sleep slowly lifted, Louie remembered all the lessons he’d learned (the hard way) about why it was a bad idea to rummage through Scrooge’s things. Those lessons probably applied here as well. Some of this stuff _had_ to be dangerous.

The garage had two doorways. One appeared to lead into the garden, so Louie walked to the other and turned the handle. He pushed his way inside and found himself in a dimly lit hallway. He was greeted by a note left on the floor:

_Kid,_

_Kitchen is straight ahead. Snacks are in the pantry if you’re hungry. Guest bedroom is to your left. I’ll be up at 7 to make breakfast. If you’re not up, then you don’t eat._

Louie glanced to his left. The door into the guest bedroom was open, and he could just make out the shape of the bed and nightstand in the dark room. The sight of a phone charger plugged into an outlet in the room made Louie’s stomach drop. His phone had died hours ago. His family was probably _still_ trying to contact him. Louie momentarily felt incredibly guilty for making them all worry. Then he remembered Uncle Donald. The family was business-as-usual with Donald gone, and they’d learn to live without Louie, too.

Still, Louie walked into the bedroom and attached his phone to the cord, leaving it to charge while he went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. It was while he was looking for food that Louie finally started feeling pain in his stomach. Louie hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he didn’t even get to finish that meal. He was _starving._

The pantry was stocked with all the basics. Louie grabbed a can of pep, some cheesy crackers, and a package with a pair of toaster pastries in it. After devouring the pastries and the crackers and chugging the can of soda, Louie felt a tad ill. He figured he could sleep off his upset stomach, so he sluggishly trotted his way to the guest bedroom.

By the time he got back to the bedroom, Louie’s phone had charged enough to be usable. Sure enough, there were dozens of missed calls and texts from family members. Louie felt lightheaded, and anxiety put a painful knot in his stomach. He needed to do something to let his family know he was okay, mostly so that Scrooge wouldn’t tear up the city looking for him.

But that could come in the morning. For now, Louie needed sleep. He powered down the phone and hopped into bed. He fell asleep almost immediately.

 

\---

 

_“Huey, I am okay. Please do not look for me.”_

Louie’s thumb hovered over the send button. He didn’t like the sound of what he’d just written. It seemed terse and short… a little meaner than he intended. It was very early morning – the sun was just barely visible over the mountains to the east and the sky was still a dark purple – but Louie had been pacing along the cliff’s edge behind Goldie’s property for close to half an hour. The ocean lapped at the face of the cliff some fifty feet below. A short wooden fence followed the cliff, the only barrier between Louie and a surely fatal fall. Louie leaned his elbows on the fence and looked out over the sea.

Louie just couldn’t gather the mental strength to send the message. Why did he care that it sounded mean? They weren’t his family anymore! They were lucky that he was contacting them at all! Despite all this, Louie still felt incredibly guilty. This was a feeling that he’d need to learn to overcome (or, at a minimum, cope with) if he was serious about going his own way.

A dark thought intruded Louie’s mind. His imagination filled the massive gaps in his knowledge about what happened to Uncle Donald, and it painted a grim picture. He imagined Donald alone and injured in the vast forests outside of Duckburg, hoping that someone would find him before it was too late. But nobody would come. Uncle Donald’s last thoughts were surely of Louie and his brothers…

Louie was crying again, but his tears imbued him with confidence. The wind blowing in from over the ocean was chilly, and it burned as it buffeted his tear-streaked face. He finally sent the short message and, closing his eyes, reared his arm back to throw his phone over the edge of the cliff.

Louie’s arm flew forward as if he were about to fling the device into the waters below, but his fingers stuck to it like glue. He stepped back and tried again, this time with a running start. He planted his feet and did the throwing motion with his arm, but again, his hand did not loosen its grip on his phone. His mind simply did not allow him to destroy his most prized possession.

Louie began to wrestle – literally – with his own arm. He was trying to peel his fingers away from the phone one at a time with his other hand. He’d get a few fingers loose before one of them would snap back into place. Louie wondered if the phone would be stuck in his hand forever.

The phone began to buzz. Louie turned the screen toward his face. Huey was trying to video call him. Louie began repeatedly thrusting his arm forward to throw the phone over the edge, and this motion devolved into frantic arm-shaking, just trying to dislodge the thing from his grip. It finally fell out of his hands and onto the ground just in front of him, and he quickly punted it before he had a chance to think any further about what he was doing. The phone bounced across the ground a few times, finding the gap in the fence and disappearing over the edge of the cliff.

Louie fell to his knees and let out a frustrated yell that probably woke the neighbors. He felt like he’d just freed himself from an anchor tied around his neck. Louie fell backwards and splayed out in the grass. He felt the moist dew on the blades of grass seep into the back of his hoodie. It was not very comfortable, but Louie had just expended far too much physical and mental effort for him to care.

Louie was startled by the sound of clapping behind him.

“Wow, kid, that was _dramatic_. Bet you could win an award for that performance!”

“Shut up, Goldie,” Louie snapped. He didn’t have the mental energy to come up with a witty response.

“Breakfast is ready. You need to eat before we get on the plane,” Goldie replied matter-of-factly. Louie brought himself to his feet and turned to face Goldie, and his jaw dropped.

“H-How…?”

That was all Louie managed to stammer out. None of the injuries Goldie had suffered just hours earlier were present. None of the cuts, none of the bruises. Louie was fairly certain that he’d seen her beak cracked, but now it was smooth and unblemished. It was as if the beating in the bar had never happened.

“I’ve got a lot of little tricks and secrets up my sleeve, Louie. I have a feeling that someday you will, too.”

 

\---

 

Huey stared contemplatively at his laptop’s screen. He was really pumped that he was putting his “Digital Tracking” merit badge to practical use; he just wished it were under better circumstances. Louie hadn’t taken the bait, and Huey just hadn’t had enough time to pin down Louie’s exact location. Huey was able, however, to discern that Louie was _definitely_ not still within Duckburg’s city limits. There was no way he could have traveled that far alone.

The signal had gone dark not long after he tried calling Louie. The phone had definitely been destroyed. That meant either A: Louie had voluntarily destroyed his cellphone or B: the phone had been destroyed by some involuntary means, and Louie along with it, because Louie would not give up his phone without a fight.

That second option sent momentary panic through Huey, but he calmed himself down by thinking through the situation logically. The signal had gone dark right as Huey tried to call, not long after Louie had texted him. Louie was clever enough to know that he’d need to cover his digital tracks. He’d obviously ruined his cellphone to prevent Huey from doing exactly what he was trying to do.

That brought up another worrying thought, though. Louie _loved_ his cellphone. Louie used to call his phone “the fourth triplet” (a phrase that Huey often objected to due to its paradoxical nature), and he only _used_ to call it “the fourth triplet” because he had started calling it “the fifth triplet” after they met Webby. The fact that Louie had actually amassed the mental and emotional strength to destroy it meant that he was absolutely serious about going his own way. About leaving the family.

“I don’t like that look on your face, bro. It means something’s wrong,” Dewey half-whispered from his bunk, startling Huey.

Huey glanced back at his screen for a few seconds, exhaling deeply as he once again looked over the information on his computer. “Louie’s alright, but he destroyed his phone before I had a chance to pin down where he’s at. I can tell he’s not in Duckburg anymore, but he hasn’t gone too far. A few dozen miles, at most.”

“Louie gets winded after walking a half mile!” Dewey said, hopping down from the bunk and walking over to where Huey was seated. Dewey leaned on the back of Huey’s chair. “There’s no way he got that far himself.”

“My thoughts exactly, Dewey. Louie’s with someone. Who it could be, I have no idea.”

The two boys were silent for a moment. Dewey yawned, somewhat disinterestedly, and began to walk toward the bedroom door. “Well, as long as we know he’s alright, I say we tell Scrooge and not stress on it for now. We both know Louie’s in _way_ over his head, whatever he’s doing. The pressure will eventually break him and he’ll come crawling back.”

“You don’t have to talk about him like that, Dewey.”

“Oh, come on, Huey! It’s not like I’m saying I _hate_ Louie, it’s just… he’s _super_ annoying when he has these moods of his. This might be the worst case he’s caught yet! And he _really_ hurt mom with what he said yesterday. That deserves consequences. But when he comes back we’ll accept him with open arms, and everybody will have learned a valuable lesson or something. _Then_ we punish him.”

“Speaking of,” Huey replied, changing the subject, “we should check on mom. See how she’s doing before we get called to breakfast.”

The two boys walked through the halls of the manor to their mother’s room, the squeaks of the wooden floorboards being the only thing that broke the stillness of the early morning. As they rounded the last corner, they saw Scrooge standing in front of the door to their mother’s room.

“Morning, Uncle Scrooge!” Dewey greeted cheerfully. Scrooge turned and gave them a warm smile.

“Morning, boys. Come by to see your mother?”

“Yup, is she feeling any better?” Huey asked.

“I havenae gotten the chance to speak with her yet,” Scrooge replied softly. His demeanor suddenly changed, and his eyes looked melancholic. “I need to speak with Della privately, lads, just for a little. I believe Beakley has breakfast prepared in the dining room. We’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Dewey looked ready to object, but Huey responded first. “Alright, Uncle Scrooge. See you at breakfast.” Dewey gave Huey a surprised and disappointed look, but Huey started walking down the hall toward the dining room, beckoning with one hand for Dewey to do the same.

Once the boys were out of sight, Scrooge let out a breath that he felt like he’d been holding on to for hours. Gingerly, he knocked on the bedroom door in front of him. When he pulled his knuckles away, he saw the “NO BOYS ALLOWED” sign that Della had carved into the wooden door decades earlier, complete with the crude etching of Donald inside a circle with a line through it. Scrooge chuckled. He’d forgotten about that. He’d punished her for damaging his door, but he never had the door refurbished because he truly found it charming.

Scrooge heard the rustle of bed sheets behind the door, but no reply came from his niece. He knocked again. “Della, lass, may I come in?”

Scrooge heard a muffled response that sounded like someone groaning into a pillow. He gently pushed his way into the room, closing the door behind him. The window in Della’s room faced away from the rising sun, and very little of the morning rays filtered into the room. It was quite dark, and all Scrooge could make out was a lump under the sheets.

“Am I a bad person, Scrooge?” Della whispered at a barely audible volume. She sat up in her bed and looked Scrooge in the eyes, offering a sad smile. “Sorry to open with such a loaded question.”

“Ye already know my answer, sweetie,” Scrooge replied, walking over and sitting at the foot of Della’s bed. The blanket was the same down blanket that had been used when Della was growing up. It was still very soft and silky to the touch, despite all the damage Della had done to it over the years. Any other billionaire would have had it replaced; Scrooge stitched patches onto it himself whenever it got torn.

The two sat in silence for a few moments. “I’m sorry I wasn’t of much help yesterday with the search,” Della mumbled sadly. After Louie had stormed out, it took the other two boys and Scrooge a little while to calm her down. They made the decision to continue with their search for Donald without Louie to give him time to let off some steam. Della couldn’t stay focused, however. Louie’s words kept replaying in her mind. She was supposed to be coordinating the search, but she’d be lost in her own thoughts as volunteers asked for their instructions. Maybe she _was_ selfish. She’d returned to earth after ten years away. Ten years away from her twin brother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when she was told he was on vacation. She’d been gone ten years, what were a few more days of waiting to reunite?

What if they never got to reunite? What if Donald…

“Lass?”

Della broke out of her trance. Scrooge was looking at her as if he was expecting a response to something he had said. Della hadn’t been listening.

“Sorry, Uncle Scrooge, could you repeat that?”

Scrooge didn’t respond right away, looking down at his hands resting in his lap and twiddling his thumbs.

“Della, do you remember yer freshman year of high school, when Donald ran away from home because of the bullies at school?”

“I remember chewing out the vice principal for doing nothing about Donald’s bullies and for punishing Donald whenever those jerks pushed him over the edge and he put one of them in the nurse’s office. I liked to use colorful words back then. I got suspended for it.”

Scrooge and Della shared a short laugh, both sighing simultaneously before the room was filled with a few more moments of silence.

“Do you remember how long Donald was gone, Della?”

“Almost three days, wasn’t it?”

“I turned this city over brick by brick looking for that lad, then he comes sailing into the harbor three days later on that wee sailboat I bought him for his 14th birthday. He’d gone out to sea alone, without telling anyone where he was going! And he stayed out there fae three days! On that teeny little vessel, no less! There were so many things that could have gone wrong!”

“I remember that tongue-lashing you gave him. Easily in the top three most brutal I’ve ever seen,” Della replied. “Nine-point-oh on the ‘how angry is Scrooge’ Richter scale.”

“Aye, and when Louie gets back, we’ll show him a nine-point-five. But, before that, we’ll show him that we love him, and that we always will. I know that he knows it, deep doon. And I know that he still loves us. He still loves you.”

Della responded with a watery smile. “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.” Della practically jumped on Scrooge to wrap him in a tight hug. He winced at first (his back was bothering him – just another symptom of age), but after a moment Scrooge returned the embrace.

“I’m leaving you in charge of the search for Donald today, Della,” Scrooge said, pulling away from the hug. “I know you can do it. Let me worry about Louie.”

Della nodded. “I got this, Uncle Scrooge. I’ll find Donald, and you’ll find Louie, and we’ll bring them both home and throw a big ol’ reunion party! I just hope that neither of them have gotten themselves into too much trouble.”

 

\---

 

Louie, as usual, had really stepped in it this time.

“Kid, how the _hell_ are you going to fall for something like that? A stone in the floor that triggers a trap? _Really?_ ”

“Less… talking…” Louie gasped out, “more running for our lives!”

This was, what?... the _third_ time in Louie’s relatively short life that he found himself running away from a giant boulder of death in some mysterious cavern? He truly hadn’t seen the odd-looking, mismatched stone in the floor until it depressed under his foot. The ground immediately started shaking. Louie and Goldie both immediately knew what that meant.

The tunnel down which the two were being chased was narrow and the ground was uneven. So far, Louie’s feet had found purchase with every frantic step, despite the rough terrain. He was doing everything he could to not think about what would happen if he lost his footing.

The tunnel soon turned into a deep ditch, opening up into a large chamber of some sort. At first glance, Louie couldn’t identify an easy way to get up out of the ditch and away from the thing trying to literally flatten him. As his eyes returned to the path in front of him, they widened in horror. The ditch seemed to end not far ahead, and it fed into a hole. Louie could not tell how deep that hole was. Probably deep enough to kill him if he fell in.

“Alright, kid, pick your poison: crushed by a rock or annihilated by a fifty foot fall?” Goldie asked stunningly nonchalantly.

“Is neither an option?” Louie practically screamed.

“It just might be, kid,” Goldie replied, producing some rope from her satchel. The rope looked somewhat frayed, with individual fibers pointing every which way up and down its length. Louie spotted an array of metal hooks at the end of it. It was a grappling hook.

The pit at the end of the ditch was getting closer, and Louie could tell that calling it a “fifty foot fall” was a severe underestimation. He was scared, extremely so. But the tunnel-vision-inducing adrenaline coursing through his veins drowned out his fear.

Goldie began the impressive feat of spinning the hook above her head while simultaneously sprinting. Louie’s eyes caught what Goldie was looking at: there was a wooden structure of some sort hanging from the ceiling of the chamber. Louie couldn’t tell what purpose it served other than to allow someone to secure a grappling hook around it. That didn’t really make any sense, but Louie didn’t really have time to think about it. What he needed to be thinking about was the rope that had somehow ended up in his hands.

“You ready, Louie?”

“No,” Louie answered honestly.

Goldie let the grappling hook loose when the pair were a few dozen feet away from where the path ended and the chasm began. Louie watched the thing fly and wrap around the wooden beam hanging from the ceiling.

_“Jump!”_

Everything felt normal for those first few fractions of a second, despite the fact that the vertical distance between Louie’s feet and the ground was several dozen feet. It just felt like he was jumping a hurdle on a track. The next few fractions of a second brought the horrific feeling of freefall. Louie held onto the rope with both hands as hard as he could.

The rope held, as did Louie’s grip. He was swinging. Looking up, his vision was filled by the soles of Goldie’s boots as she hung onto the rope just above him. Looking ahead, he saw a ledge that they could feasibly land on…

“Bail, kid!” Goldie yelled, releasing her grip on the rope and flying toward the ledge Louie spotted. Louie was caught off guard by the sudden order, and took a few more moments to assess his trajectory.

He’d let go too late. He was thrown upward when he let go instead of forward, and it was clear he didn’t have the forward velocity to reach the ledge. Louie closed his eyes and simply accepted whatever was about to happen.

“Gotcha, kid!”

Louie’s eyes opened, and he discovered that Goldie had caught him by the arm. He was still dangling off the edge, and was literally paralyzed with fear.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, Louie. A little help?”

“Oh, yea, sorry,” Louie mumbled, bracing his feet against the wall of the chasm and boosting himself up to safety on the ledge with Goldie’s help. As Goldie pulled Louie onto solid ground, they both splayed out on their backs, panting uncontrollably. Both were startled by the thunderous noise and the earth-shaking of the rock that was chasing them impacting the bottom of the hole.

Goldie turned her head back toward the chasm. Her grappling hook was still wrapped around the wooden beam, and the rope was swinging back and forth. There wouldn’t be any easy way to get to it. She was just going to have to leave it there.

Goldie brought herself to her feet, staring Louie down and gesturing to the swinging rope over the chasm. “Damn it, kid, that was my favorite grappling hook! I’ve had that thing since the 60’s!” Goldie spat.

“You… you neehhhhhh-” Louie’s words devolved into a wheeze as he tried to regain his breath. “You needed a new one anyway. That one was jank.”

“You know what? Next time, I’m just gonna let you fall.”

“Alright, sorry,” Louie whined, rolling his eyes from his position on the floor, “Thank you, Goldie. I’m legit grateful that you saved my life. Can we move on now that we got the ‘almost dying’ part is out of the way?”

Goldie’s expression looked somewhere between unimpressed and enraged. “I’m starting to get the feeling that the only reason I survived in the bar last night is sheer luck. You don’t know what you’re doing at all!” Goldie jumped forward, planting her feet on either side of Louie and leaning over to put her face into the boy’s. With a bony finger jabbed into Louie’s chest, Goldie continued her tirade. “The stone tile trap is _day one_ stuff, kid. You’ve been adventuring for Scrooge for how long? And you haven’t learned how to avoid the most _basic_ traps we encounter in this business? Are you kidding me?”

“It was an accident…” Louie replied meekly.

“Well, it shouldn’t have happened,” Goldie huffed, “and it nearly cost me my life. It _did_ cost me a nice piece of equipment. I chose this adventure in particular because it’s easy enough that the average child could do it. You are obviously a below average child.” Goldie saw Louie’s expression change at that last comment. She realized that, despite believing everything she was saying, it was a tad cruel to voice it to a child Louie’s age.

“Ech, it doesn’t matter at this point,” Goldie mumbled, giving a dismissive wave. “What happened happened. Sit here and _don’t touch anything_ while I figure out where we are and how we’ll get where we were trying to go.”

“Mmhmm,” Louie replied with a struggled gulp. His voice was emotional and Goldie could tell that she had really upset him. He was either going to have to get used to her personality or give up and go back home. Goldie was hoping Louie was leaning toward the second option at this point.

Goldie finally began to fully assess her surroundings and soon began laughing uncontrollably. Louie raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’re not going to believe this, kid. The little detour you sent us on brought us right to the treasure room!”

Louie sat up and looked around. “I don’t see any treasure,” Louie replied with a monotone and nasally voice. Eventually, his eyes did catch on a small pedestal at the end of a short path leading away from the pit. There was some sort of treasure placed on top of it, and Louie’s eyes lit up. He popped to his feet. “Ooooh, what is it? How many ounces of gold are we talking here? Is it diamond encrusted? I think I can see some sort of jewel in it!”

“Calm down, kid. Come,” Goldie replied, gesturing for Louie to follow her up the path toward the treasure. The pair walked up the path before ascending a short flight of stairs to the pedestal. Louie finally got a good look at what they had come to take: a glove. A metal glove, and definitely not gold. It wasn’t even silver. Louie was fairly certain the thing was made of steel. Practically worthless. Louie deflated slightly, but his hope was restored at the sight of a green jewel – one Louie couldn’t identify, so it must be rare – embedded in the top of the gauntlet.

Goldie unceremoniously snatched the glove off the pedestal, sending momentary panic through Louie. “How dare you lecture me for falling for simple tricks! You didn’t even check the pedestal to see if it was booby trapped!”

A disconcerted look very briefly flashed across Goldie’s face that told Louie that he was right, but she’d never admit it. “I’ve been in this game long enough to tell where there is or is not a trap, kid,” Goldie stammered. “Aaaaaaaaaanyway,” Goldie continued, “this right here is the psynergy gauntlet.”

Goldie slipped the steel gauntlet over her hand. She closed her eyes and Louie could see her whole body visibly relax. Goldie began to breathe in and out at a steady rhythm, and the jewel in the gauntlet began to glow. She opened her eyes and turned back toward the pit, reaching her armored hand out toward it. Louie jumped back as a translucent green hand manifested itself from the gauntlet and began to travel across the room. Streaks and flecks of light and energy emanated from the mysterious floating hand, which continued to travel toward the pit. The hand eventually reached Goldie’s grappling hook, and it freed the device from the wooden beam and brought it back to Goldie.

“The psynergy gauntlet allows you to interact with far away objects as if they were right in front of you,” Goldie explained, removing the gauntlet from her hand and tossing it into Louie’s lap. “It takes a little bit of practice to figure out how to use it, but it could prove _very_ useful to anyone that learns. I was able to conjure up a little hand that retrieved my grappling hook, but an expert could conjure up something that could lift a bus!”

Louie picked the object up from his lap and began to examine it all over. “Go ahead, kid, try it on,” Goldie encouraged. Louie looked at her with an incredulous expression, his wide eyes asking her _“really?”_ Goldie gave a nod in response. Louie slipped the gauntlet over his hand and secured it. He began to test his arm, swinging it around at the elbow to get a feel for its weight.

“Uncle Scrooge never lets us try cool stuff like this on our adventures!” Louie exclaimed. He began to do what he’d seen Goldie do: he closed his eyes, relaxed, focused all his mental energy on the gauntlet around his hand…

…and nothing happened.

“That’s to be expected, kid. No way can anyone get that thing to work on their first try. Nobody but me, of course,” Goldie said with a sly smile. “Keep at it as we’re working our way out of the caverns here. You’ll get it eventually.”

The trek out of the caves was quiet. Goldie led the way as Louie continued to struggle with the thing on his hand. The two ducks walked along a path bordered on one end by the cavern’s wall and on the other by a deep ravine, Goldie a few dozen feet ahead of Louie.

“A-ha!” Louie shouted out. Goldie stopped and turned to watch the child. A small amount of green light was coming off the glove, and the green jewel was glowing a lime color. Nothing resembling a hand came out, however, and eventually Louie lost his focus and the light retreated. Louie let out a frustrated yell and swung his armored fist into the wall. The gauntlet reacted violently; a massive green fist shot out and impacted the wall near where Goldie was standing.

One moment Goldie was standing on the path, the next she was not. A chunk of the pathway began to slide into the dark crevasse, taking Goldie with it. Rocks began to fall from the ceiling, and the whole place was rocked by tremors.

“Goldie!”

Louie sprinted to the edge of where the pathway had collapsed. About ten feet down, Goldie was clinging on to a scant handhold along the wall, her finger strength being the only thing separating her from a nasty fall.

“Oh, by the way, kid. The psynergy gauntlet can react poorly to wild fluctuations in emotion like that. So, uh, let’s keep that in mind when you’re wearing it, alright?” Goldie asked, struggle obvious in her voice as she strained to keep her grip.

“What should I do, Goldie? You need to get out of there!” Louie yelled.

“Just… gimme a second, kid. I’ll figure something out,” Goldie replied. Her eyes scanned the area around her, but nothing grabbed her attention as a possible way out of the situation. “Or maybe I won’t. I might be truly stuck on this stupid-”

Goldie was cut off by the odd sensation of being lifted by something wrapped around her waist. She looked down to see a glowing green hand wrapped around her body, slowly bringing her back up and placing her back on the path, past the collapsed section she had been standing on.

Goldie was set down somewhat roughly. She quickly picked herself up and dusted herself off, looking across the gap in the pathway back to Louie. She was beaming. “Wow, kid. I mean, _wow!_ ” Goldie bellowed. “You’re a natural with that thing!”

Louie had removed the gauntlet from his hand and was gingerly resting it on both of his palms, examining it with a look of unbridled pride. Louie never felt like he was good at all that much, least of all adventuring. Maybe that was all changing. Maybe this whole arrangement with Goldie wouldn’t make him a better person, but it might make him a more competent one.

“You know what, Louie? I think you deserve to keep the spoils of this little outing. The gauntlet’s yours, if you want it.”

“I’ll take it,” Louie said, slipping the gauntlet back on his hand and extending a green hand across the gap in the path. Goldie took the mystical hand in a firm handshake.

“I can tell this is gonna be a ‘highs and lows’ arrangement, kid. But I think we’ll do great things together.”

 

\---

 

The whole earth was mocking him. No, really, it was! Donald could see the whole planet through the window of his cell, and the fact that his family was way over there and he was stuck way over here was simply insulting. He’d already lost his temper once over it, and all it got him was thicker, heavier chains. Ones that wouldn’t snap under the force of a furious duck.

The Moonlanders seemed to have a deep distrust of earthlings, and ducks in particular. Why? Donald did not know. It didn’t really matter. What mattered is that it got him thrown into this cell he’d been stuck in for… a week? Two weeks? It was very difficult to keep track of how many earth days had passed from his cell on the moon.

In that time, he’d had very little interaction with anyone else. The guards never understood him and would tell him to pipe down whenever he tried to engage them in conversation. It was a solitude that would drive most people insane, but Donald knew how to deal with solitude. How to deal with loneliness. The earth mocked him, yes, but it was also one of the only things that brought him hope. It was one of the only real, physical things he could _see_ that gave him any comfort. His boys were out there on that blue ball outside his window. He’d see them again, one day. He’d make sure of that. He hadn’t worked out the details yet, but it _would_ eventually happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldie takes Louie into Duckburg to teach him some new, less-than-legal skills. The family finally gets a sort of breakthrough in their search for Louie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember in the author’s notes of last chapter when I said “I’ll try not to have a three-week gap between this update and the next”? Well, good news! I kept my promise! I didn’t make you wait three weeks, I made you wait three and a half!  
> Anyway, sorry if this chapter feels kinda filler-y again. It looks like this thing is gonna be 8 chapters total and I promise that a lot more exciting things happen in the second half! I wanted to have it all completed before the show starts back up again in September, but at this rate that isn’t gonna happen. Speaking of which, all the stuff from SDCC is so goddamn hypppppeeee, I cannot friggin wait.   
> As always, thanks for the kudos and comments!

Louie was bored. This normally wouldn’t be a big issue; as a personal rule, Louie spent at least fifty percent of his time being bored and doing nothing. But this boredom was different. He still hadn’t quite gotten acclimated to not having a phone. A few days after showing up out of the blue, his mother had described a strange sensation of pain in her metallic leg. Huey pulled out his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and explained that Della was experiencing “phantom pains,” a phenomenon in which an amputee feels pain in a limb they no longer have. Louie found himself experiencing something similar: he constantly heard false ringtones and felt nonexistent vibrations in his hoodie’s pocket despite the fact he’d destroyed his phone two days ago at this point. And without a social media timeline to half-pay attention to, Louie found himself relying on the three channels that Goldie’s ancient antennae TV set received. It was awful. The 11 AM news was no suitable substitute for an episode of Ottoman Empire.

Still, Louie found himself splayed awkwardly across the couch, his gaze lazily cast in the general direction of the news anchor on the screen. They were presenting some sort of community interest story. It was very difficult to care about. The picture cut to an older duck being interviewed. The poor image quality made the man’s feathers look sickly shades of green and purple. Louie wondered how _anybody_ could put up with standard definition. The 80’s and 90’s must’ve truly been awful.

Louie brought his can of Pep to his bill only to find that he’d emptied yet another one. He tossed the empty can toward the trash bin on the other side of the room. The can bounced off the rim three or four times before clattering to the floor just beside the bin. Mumbling an indignant “just my luck,” Louie strapped the psynergy gauntlet around his right hand and manifested a little magical hand, sending it across the room to pick up the can and put it in the receptacle where it belonged. With a self-satisfied smirk, Louie thought about how, in times past, he would’ve just left the can on the ground (getting up and throwing it away would have been _way_ too much effort). Maybe he _was_ growing as a person.

Now came the issue of getting another can of Pep. Louie felt his heart sink when he reached into the ice bucket he’d stashed behind the couch and found it Pep-less. The refrigerator was in the kitchen, a few doors down a short hallway from the living room where Louie was vegetating. Louie was facing an all-too-familiar internal struggle: was it worth the effort to get up and get a new can?

_Wait a minute…_ Louie thought to himself. Reaching out his gloved hand, Louie sent a phantom fist down the hallway toward the kitchen. He’d never tried controlling it anywhere outside his line of sight, but he felt comfortable enough with the strange magical item to try.

A few seconds after the magic hand disappeared around the corner into the kitchen, Louie heard two nearly-simultaneous noises: a loud crash that sounded agonizingly similar to glass shattering against the floor, and Goldie screaming “What the _hell?!_ ”

“D’yoh boy,” Louie grumbled nasally. He quickly removed the gauntlet from his hand and stuffed it under one of the couch cushions. “What’s wrong?” Louie called out as if he had nothing to do with what was wrong.

“Don’t even try that crap with me, boy! Get over here!”

Louie exhaled loudly through his nose before mentally and physically preparing himself for the monumental task of getting up off the couch.

_“Now, Louie!”_

Louie brought himself to his feet and idly meandered his way toward the kitchen, hands resting comfortably in his hoodie’s pocket. Rounding the corner, he found out what had set Goldie off: he’d managed to knock a glass of red wine onto the floor. Judging by the massive crimson stain running down Goldie’s vest, he’d managed to knock it right out of her hands.

“Do you have _any idea_ how much this vest cost me, kid?

“Well, at first glance it looks like it’s a pretty standard cotton safari vest, but I can see that it has some sort of breathable mesh for comfort. Those pockets look pretty heavy duty too. If I had to guess, that type of vest runs about $200 deadstock off the shelf at your average sports supply store?”

Goldie actually looked impressed for a fraction of a second. Then the anger returned. “Two-hundred dollars is a lot of money, kid!” Goldie then leaned to the side and threw open a door into a supply closet, angrily grabbing a mop and bucket and tossing it toward Louie. The mop handle loudly whacked the ground in front of him. “Now clean all this up!”

Louie rolled his eyes. “You’re a _billionaire!_ Two-hundred bucks is a drop in the bucket for you! Who drinks wine at eleven in the morning, anyway? I think you have a problem.”

“How many cans of my Pep have you inhaled this morning? Six? Don’t talk to me about drinking problems.”

“Touché,” Louie replied, grabbing the mop handle on the ground and propping the mop in front of him so he could lean on it. “Here’s the thing: I wouldn’t be lazing about drinking your soda if you let me tag along doing whatever you’ve been doing. Being _here_ ,” Louie said, gesturing to the house around him, “especially alone, is so boring it’s suffocating.”

“I told you, kid, the stuff I’m working on right now is _way_ too dangerous for a child. We’ll pick up where we left off this weekend.”

“But-”

“Kid, we’ll discuss this later. I need to get this vest off and see if I can salvage it. Make sure this all gets cleaned up. I don’t want a stray shard of glass in my foot later.”

It took Louie about half an hour to get the floor clean. It would have been a much easier process if he had music or a podcast to listen to while he was doing it, but his phone was at the bottom of the ocean. He was regretting that decision a lot, and had to keep reminding himself that it was a necessary sacrifice to keep his family (his _ex_ -family) off his back.

Just as he was putting the cleaning supplies away, Goldie walked by wearing a clean vest. “Alright kid, I’m heading out. Try not to break anything else while I’m gone.”

“Seriously, Goldie, I’m going mad here!” Louie begged, “Let me tag along! I’m really good at staying out of trouble!”

“We _both_ know that’s a bald-faced lie, Louie,” Goldie sneered.

“Work with me here, Goldie,” Louie pleaded, “I’ve been so bored that I’ve been desperate enough to watch Duckburg public access. I don’t think I can take another one of those no-budget talk shows hosted by a weepy-looking thirty-five-year-old!”

Goldie looked unamused. “You know, back in my day, kids used to go outside.”

“Yea, in the fifties,” Louie shot back.

“That was almost a solid comeback, Louie, but I’m 148 years old.”

“Well, congrats. You don’t look a day over 70.”

Goldie chuckled lightly but didn’t respond right away. She was clearly debating with herself what she should do. After bobbing her head in thought a few times, she came to a decision. “Alright, kid, tell you what. I can set aside what I planned to do today. Let’s take a trip into Duckburg?”

“Doesn’t sound like much of an adventure, but it’ll get me out of here,” Louie replied. “Let’s do it.”

 

\---

 

There was little to no conversation on the road into Duckburg. Louie watched through the passenger window as the verdant coastal ranges gave way to the massive estates of the Duckburg exurbs. Eventually, the highway crested a hill, presenting a beautiful view of most of the city, including Killmotor Hill in the distance.

Goldie drove her jeep through the bustling streets of downtown Duckburg, a far cry from the placid neighborhoods of the city’s outer reaches. She began searching for a parking spot in a neighborhood that Louie was very familiar with. They were not parking far from the spot he called home for most of his life.

Duckburg Pier was a big draw for tourists and Duckburg residents alike. It offered some of the best dining and shopping experiences in the city. Louie would occasionally sneak away from the houseboat and trot a few blocks down the road to look at all the nice things Uncle Donald could not afford. The city would host a fair at the pier every year, and Donald would scrimp and save enough money for Louie and his brothers to enjoy themselves for a night. Louie had made a lot of memories at this place.

“Kid, you coming?”

Louie shook his head and the cloud of nostalgia dissipated. “Yeah, sorry, just thinkin’ about something,” he said wistfully.

It was a fairly hot summer day, pretty uncomfortable even with the nice coastal breeze blowing in. Goldie bought two ice-cold lemonades to cool down with. The pair found a bench to sit on and they silently watched Hawaiian-shirted tourist do tourist things.

“So, why are we here again?” Louie asked. Goldie did not respond. Louie looked at Goldie’s eyes, but she was staring off into the crowds. Her pupils moved back and forth across her eyes like she was scanning the crowds, looking for something…

Goldie suddenly stood up from the bench and, handing her lemonade to Louie, began to walk with purpose toward a tall but skinny chicken wearing a nice plaid shirt and khakis. Louie stood up as well, but Goldie waved him off with a shooing motion with her hand and he sat back down. Goldie began cheerfully engaging the man in conversation. Louie couldn’t hear what was being said – the noise from the crowds around him drowned it all out – but Goldie’s body language was much more animated and vibrant than he’d ever seen. Goldie was being incredibly touchy-feely as well, constantly invading the man’s personal space to give him a pat on the back or lightly shake him. The guy looked a little overwhelmed, but Louie could tell he was trying to be friendly. Eventually, Goldie began making her way back toward Louie, giving the man an ecstatic farewell wave as she did so. Goldie walked past Louie and signaled for him to get up and follow. Louie scrambled to his feet and jogged slightly to catch up to Goldie.

“What the _heck_ was that?” Louie asked.

“Keep moving, kid, we need to put some distance between us and that guy.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Eventually the pair reached a small alleyway and Goldie ducked inside with Louie right behind her. The alley was fairly secluded, the only other people in sight were some teenagers loitering a few dozen yards away.

“So, what was _that_ all about?”

Goldie didn’t reply with words, she simply opened up one of the pockets on her vest and began emptying it of its contents. She pulled out the man’s wallet, his watch, his sunglasses, even the silver ornament that was on the poor chicken’s belt buckle.

“ _Whoa_ Goldie,” Louie gasped, mouth agape. “Did you steal all of this from that guy? _How?_ ”

“Pickpocketing is a very useful skill to learn, Louie. I kept looking for a mark in the crowd until I found one. You need to find a nice-looking guy who is too afraid to say anything when you’re up in his face. Did you see how close I stayed to him, how much body contact I made? Those are distractions to lower the odds that he’ll notice that I’m taking off his watch.”

Louie looked at the small pile of stolen goods Goldie had dropped to the ground. The wallet looked like it had a few hundred dollars in it. The watch was a very nice timepiece that Louie appraised to be at least another few hundred dollars. All told, Goldie had made off with nearly $1000 of the chicken’s possessions, and for all Louie knew, the guy was still none the wiser.

“Why are you trying to teach me street urchin stuff when you’re as rich as you are?” Louie eventually asked.

“How do you think I got my start, kid?” Goldie replied. “And these types of skills are good to build; they’ve gotten me out of trouble more times than I can count.” Goldie bent over and scooped up all the items, slipping them back into her vest’s pocket. “It’s also one of the few things I think you’d be good at. This type of stuff requires a lot of fast talking and good acting.”

Louie struggled with his conscience for all of three seconds. “Alright, I’m down to try.”

The pair left the alleyway and headed for a row of shops a few streets down from where Goldie had robbed the rooster. They found another bench to sit on.

“Alright, Louie, take a look around. Who looks like a good target?”

Louie evaluated all the different people in front of him. There were folks of all species and statuses, all having wonderful days full of shopping and relaxing on the beach, all unaware that they were being watched by Duckburg’s newest (and probably youngest) crook.

“There,” Louie said, subtly pointing toward a dog wearing a pair of jeans and a nice collared shirt. Goldie followed Louie’s finger with her gaze, eventually finding the dog Louie was referring to. The dog was approached by another dog, presumably his wife, and a few young children.

“It’s not a good idea to try to steal from someone who is in a group. Too many potential witnesses who could catch on to our game,” Goldie replied. Louie simply nodded and got back to searching through all the faces in the crowd. “Also, you need to aim a little higher. That dog looked like a relatively well-off guy, but he wouldn’t net us the high-dollar items. Look for the rich fools with the air of undeserved superiority. You know what they say: steal from the rich and give to the richer!”

“Nobody says that,” Louie replied slowly, his focus still on the crowd before him. “A-ha! Here we go!” Louie pointed toward another dog, this one wearing a fancy Swan John suit. He didn’t appear to have any company, and his watch was so shiny that it was practically blinding Louie from 100 feet away.

“There we go, kid! Perfect,” Goldie said, hopping up from the bench. “Just follow my lead. I’ll do the talking, you do the finger work?”

“Sure, I got this,” Louie declared with a confidence that he did not actually have. Hey, at least he was doing something potentially profitable.

“Oh, before I forget,” Goldie whispered. She produced two small pink balls from her pocket and handed them to Louie, who stared at them with a questioning look. “These are _last resort_ only, kiddo. Throw these against the ground and it’ll make a cloud of sleeping gas. Make sure you’re covering your mouth and nose or you’ll knock yourself out, too.” Louie nodded and slipped the balls into his pocket.

Goldie and Louie continued toward their target. Goldie signaled for Louie to break off and try to get behind the man. She then “accidentally” bumped shoulders with their target, causing the man to nearly lose his balance. Goldie reached out and caught his arm, steadying him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir! I need to pay more attention,” Goldie belted out with a sugar-sweet tone that made Louie want to gag.

“Oh, it’s alright, miss!” the dog replied, “it happens!”

Goldie reached out and gave the man a rough pat on the shoulder. “Well, thank you for your hospitality. So, what brings you to the pier today?”

By this point, Louie had snuck behind the man and was cataloguing all the things that he thought he’d be able to get his hands on. The dog’s wallet and money clip were nearly _begging_ to be stolen with the way they were hanging out of his back pocket. His watch was very nice, but it would be difficult to get to as long as his hands were in front of him. Louie could also see a pair of nice glasses with Gucci frames in the outer pocket of the dog’s suit jacket.

Louie gave Goldie a thumbs up to signal that he was ready. Goldie’s conversation had moved on to a discussion about the dog’s children. Goldie asked to see pictures of them, and the dog pulled out his phone. That gave Goldie a fantastic excuse to get up close and personal with her victim. She was practically leaning on him as he held up his phone with a nice family portrait on the screen.

Louie quickly snagged the wallet and money clip from the man’s back pocket and stuffed it into his hoodie’s pouch. The dog suddenly moved his elbow back, nearly knocking Louie right in his bill. It was a close call that could have easily blown his cover.

Next, Louie’s hand moved out toward the suit pocket that held the man’s glasses. The dog’s arm was constantly moving as he continued to swipe from picture to picture on his phone. Goldie continued to butter the guy up, fawning over the pictures with the type of faux sincerity you’d get from a career politician. Louie finally saw an opening and went for it, grabbing the man’s glasses and stuffing them in his hoodie.

“Well, thank you for showing me those pictures! Your family is gorgeous!” Goldie exclaimed, stepping away from the dog and subtly tossing his watch over toward Louie, who caught it and quickly stuffed it away as well.

“Thank you, miss!” the dog replied cheerfully. “I really love Duckburg, this is the only city I visit with people this friendly!”

“Well, people are raised right here,” Goldie said as Louie began to trot away with a pocket full of stolen possessions. Louie tried to remain as neutral as possible in his posture and in his expression. For some reason, the task of walking like a normal person felt impossible. Louie felt like everyone’s eyes were on him.

“Anyway,” the dog sighed out, “what time is it? I’m supposed to meet with my family at-” The dog paused when he realized his watch was not on his wrist.

_Uh oh,_ Goldie thought.

“Where the heck… I know I was wearing it, I checked it not five minutes ago!”

“What’s wrong?” Goldie asked nervously.

“And my wallet! Where is my wallet?!” The dog screamed out, loud enough for Louie to hear from several dozen feet away. Louie’s pace picked up, and he didn’t _dare_ look back.

“I could help you look for it,” Goldie offered with a sheepish smile.

“Where is that kid you were with?” The dog asked, his tone getting more rough and accusatory. “I saw you on the bench with that kid in green before you ran into me, where is he now? Is that your grandson?”

“Why do you think he’s my grandson? Are you calling me old? He looks nothing like me!” Goldie spat back, not only completely breaking character but also admitting to knowing the child in question. The dog was now convinced that Goldie and Louie had pulled a fast one on him. Quickly looking around, the dog easily spotted Louie’s green hoodie.

_“Thief! Get back here!”_

Louie finally spared a glance back to see the dog in a full sprint coming after him. Louie let out a yell and began to sprint as well. The chase was on.

“Somebody stop that kid in the green! He stole my wallet!”

The dog’s yelling caught the attention of a police officer patrolling the area on foot. The officer leaned into the radio on his shoulder. “Dispatch, it looks like we have a two-eleven. Requesting backup at the Duckburg Pier. Suspect is a duckling in a green hoodie.”

 

\---

 

Huey, Dewey, and Webby were told (well, commanded) to relax for a day despite their desire to continue helping in the searches for Donald and Louie. After a lengthy argument that they did not win, the three decided to head for the beach to swim and relax. Maybe it would be a good thing to take their minds off of everything for a day.

After spending a few hours playing on the shore, the three decided to grab some ice cream from a shop near the pier. First, they needed to head back to the locker they rented out so that everybody could get their phones and Huey could grab his wallet to pay for the ice cream.

“Stop, in the name of the law!”

Huey, Dewey, and Webby all turned their heads. “Ooooh, a police chase! Awesome! Let’s check it out!” Dewey exclaimed.

“Let’s help them out!” Webby added, producing what appeared to be a lasso.

“No, let’s stay out of their way and let the police do their jobs,” Huey scolded. “Where did you even get that lasso, anyway?” Huey turned back toward Dewey to see that he was already climbing up a lamp post to get a better view on the unfolding scene.

“This is awesome!” Dewey yelled. “I see the cops, lemme see if I can find the criminal they’re chasing!”

“Everyone is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, Dewey,” Huey replied, “but the fact that he’s running is a pretty good indicator of guilt.”

“What do you see?” Webby asked.

Dewey didn’t respond. He seemed to be leaning forward as far as he could without falling off the lamp post, squinting off into the distance.

_“Oh my god!”_ Dewey threw himself off the pole and down to the ground.

“What is it?” Huey and Webby asked simultaneously.

_“It’s Louie. The cops are chasing Louie!”_

“Wait, what?”

“They were chasing a duck wearing that dumb green hoodie. It was him for _sure_.”

Huey reached into his pocket to grab his phone, only to find his pockets empty.

“Dangit!” Huey squawked. “Webby, take this key and get your phone from the locker we rented and call Uncle Scrooge! Dewey and I are gonna go after Louie!”

Webby just nodded, taking the key and running for the lockers. Huey and Dewey took off in pursuit of the officers who were, in turn, chasing Louie.

 

\---

 

Louie had never been much for running, but adrenaline can make your body do some crazy things. He was somehow managing to keep his distance from the cops in pursuit. His small frame made it much easier to weave through the dense crowds of people. The adults chasing him were bowling people over in order to keep up.

Louie managed to break line of sight just for a moment, and he took the opportunity to duck into an alleyway. He immediately began to regret the decision, as the alleyway dead-ended into the side of a building. Louie had trapped himself. He needed to find a place to hide.

Unfortunately the only suitable hiding place in the alley was inside a large metal dumpster that was placed against one of the walls. Louie approached the dumpster and lifted the lid, reeling back at the awful smell it unleashed.

_“Where’d he go? Spread out!”_ That voice was not very far away. Looks like he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Oh boy, I’m not looking forward to this,” Louie said under his breath. In one committal motion, Louie jumped into the awful-smelling box and closed the lid behind him.

The dumpster was dark, hot, and humid, and Louie didn’t want to think about what the wet squishy thing he felt between his webbed toes was. Something was seeping into the back of his hoodie. It was taking a lot of effort not to vomit.

Louie heard the unmistakable sound of jackboots hitting the pavement, running past the alley in which he was currently hiding. Louie was glad that he was already holding his breath due to the smell. As one last pair of boots trotted by, Louie heard the officer speak into his radio.

“Suspect has been lost. We’re gonna set up a quarantine, see if we can catch him as he tries to leave the neighborhood.”

Then, silence. Louie waited for a while before peeking his head out of the dumpster. He didn’t really care if the coast was clear, he just wanted out of the trash. He’d been in there for close to ten minutes and could handle it no longer.

Louie’s feet hit the pavement of the alley and the lid slammed closed loudly behind him. A quick look around revealed no police presence, so Louie took the time to brush himself off. There was a lot of disgusting stuff all over him, including a banana peel that was resting on his head. Louie thought that that was cliché, but also appropriate given his propensity for cartoonishly bad luck. His hoodie was soaked with… something. He was probably going to have to burn it.

He cautiously made his way toward the mouth of the alley. He was totally expecting to see an entire SWAT team ready to arrest him as soon as he stepped onto the street.

He didn’t expect to see his brothers.

“Alright, Louie, game’s over, time for you to-” Huey began before suddenly reeling back. “ _ACK!_ What is that _smell_?”

“Seriously, bro, when was the last time you showered?” Dewey added.

“Oh, I missed you guys too! You’re doing a great job of convincing me to come back!” Louie replied bitterly.

“Okay, Louie, we’re sorry,” Huey soothed, taking his hand away from plugging his nostrils.

“I’m not! He smells like garbage!” Dewey interjected, receiving an annoyed look from Huey.

“Well, I just spent the past ten minutes hiding in a dumpster. You must be really familiar with garbage!” Louie replied.

“You were hiding from the cops! Why are the police after you? Where have you been the past _three days_? Who were you staying with?”

“I don’t need to tell you guys anything!” Louie spat. “Just know that I’m doing fine, I don’t need you checking up on me like this!”

“You just spent the last ten minutes hiding from cops inside a smelly old dumpster!” Dewey blurted out. “You’re doing anything _but_ fine!”

Louie produced the stolen money clip from his hoodie pocket. He removed the cash from the clip and fanned the bills out in front of him. “I made 424 dollars today, plus I came up on some cool new accessories!” Louie pulled the watch out and tried putting it on, but it was way too large for his small wrist. He put the glasses on and found out that they were prescription lenses, and looking through them was very disorienting.

“Louie, is _that_ why the cops are after you? Did you _steal_ those?” Huey asked, aghast.

“As I said, I don’t need to tell you guys anything, I’m doing fine. In fact, I’m doing _great_. The past three days have been some of the best of my life! I don’t need you, or Webby, or Scrooge, or mom. I’m serious.”

“You know what, fine! Just go!” Dewey screamed, stepping aside and gesturing for Louie to walk past. “I don’t think you understand just how much you hurt mom with your little drama-queen coronation speech, Louie! You don’t deserve her, so just go!”

“Now, Dewey…” Huey began.

“You know what, Dewey? I’m glad I hurt her. _She deserved it.”_

Dewey lashed out and slapped Louie across his face with an open palm as hard as he could. Louie looked dazed for a moment, then he looked ready to pounce. Huey stepped in between.

“Dewey, Louie, calm down!” Huey put a reassuring hand on each of his brothers’ shoulders. “This needs to be resolved and this is _not_ how things will be resolved!”

“Screw this,” Louie said, removing Huey’s hand from his shoulder, “You act like you have no idea why I’ve left the family, but the first time we cross paths I get slapped in the face! I’ll say it slower so you can understand: _I’m fine._ Leave… me… _alone._ ”

“We know that’s not true, Louie,” Dewey said. “We get it! You’re not the only one who has been deeply affected by Uncle Donald’s disappearance! We hurt, just like you do! At least we’re trying to _do something_ about it instead of just trying to run away from all our problems!”

“Louie, you have a lot going on in your head right now and it’d be best for you to work it out with the people who love you,” Huey insisted.

“Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Nerd,” Louie grumbled venomously, “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for some _‘people who love me.’_ Uncle Donald was one. Now he’s gone,” Louie said with a grim finality. “Now get out of my way, I’m leaving.”

Louie moved to walk past, but Huey and Dewey blocked his path. “Louie, actions have consequences,” Huey said. “It’s much better to face those consequences and _learn from them_ than it is to spend the _rest of your life_ running from them. Seriously! Give up this pitiful _woe-is-me_ attitude, Louie! It’s pathetic! The way I see it, you have two options: you can either mourn Uncle Donald, or you can charge ahead in life with the hope that he’ll someday come back to us. I’m choosing the latter. And I’ll hold onto that hope, even if it takes ten days to find him, even if it takes ten weeks, months, years, _decades!_ If you want to give up and personally accept the unthinkable, that Uncle Donald is never coming back, that’s your prerogative. But this “nothing matters” nihilism you’ve adopted, this attitude that leads you to steal from random people and run from the cops, it _will_ catch up with you someday. And I love you too much to let that happen.”

Huey and Dewey began to close in on Louie. Louie kept his distance, walking backward as his two brothers followed. Soon, Louie’s back was against the wall at the end of the alley.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Louie,” Dewey intimidated.

“I think I’mma do this my way,” Louie replied. In one quick motion, Louie plugged his nose and covered his mouth with one hand while the other retrieved the little pink capsules Goldie had given him earlier. He spiked them into the ground, and immediately he and his brothers were enveloped in a purplish-pink cloud. Louie shoulder-checked his way between his brothers, who had been taken completely by surprise.

If Huey or Dewey said anything else, Louie didn’t hear it. As he approached the opening of the alley, he took one last glance back toward his brothers. The purple cloud was dissipating and he could see their unconscious forms on the ground. He felt a sudden pang of guilt, before remembering that Huey was right: nothing mattered to him. He wouldn’t have had to do that to them if they hadn’t forced him to.

Louie made his way back to Goldie’s car and didn’t see a single police officer on the way there. He’d gotten away with everything! Goldie was sitting in her car with the engine idling. Louie opened up the passenger door and began to climb in.

“Way to keep me waiting, kiAUGHH!” Goldie’s sentence was cut off by Louie’s scent hitting her nostrils.

“I know, Goldie, and I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to take a shower.”

“We’re going to stop at the beach first and you’re going to rinse off in the ocean,” Goldie said with her nose plugged. “I’m not going to deal with this stench for the whole drive home.”

Louie began emptying the stolen goods from his pocket, offering them to Goldie.

“No, kid,” Goldie said, gesturing for Louie to take the stuff back. “You put in the work, the spoils are yours. It’d weigh too much on my conscience if I took it away from you, especially because you must’ve gone through a lot to end up smelling like that.”

“You have no idea, Goldie.”

 

\---

 

Seventy-two hours. It had officially been seventy-two hours since Mrs. Beakley received the call from the resort. Seventy-two hours since the search for Donald began. Seventy-two hours since Louie stormed off. Scrooge felt like he had made zero progress in establishing either’s whereabouts.

He would never admit it, but the stress was beginning to get to him. Della was still emotionally volatile (Scrooge had been doing everything in his power to convince her that she wasn’t a bad mother), and the kids were, well, kids. The responsibility of leading both searches had fallen on Scrooge, and it was beginning to wear on him. Especially since he had very little to show for it after three days.

Huey and Dewey had informed Scrooge of the message Louie sent not long after Huey received it. The fact that Louie was okay and with somebody ostensibly competent enough to keep him safe brought Scrooge a minimal amount of relief. Unfortunately, the mystery surrounding who this person could be brought Scrooge a much larger amount of anxiety. Beakley, ever observant, had been telling him to get some rest; Scrooge hadn’t been keeping track of how many hours he’d slept over the past few days, but he knew it couldn’t be more than a few hours. That was okay, in Scrooge’s opinion. He’d probably said it literally thousands of times in the past century and a half: he could rest when he was dead. For now, his exhaustion was completely eclipsed by his desire to see his family – his _whole_ family – home safe.

Scrooge’s cellphone began to ring. He inhaled deeply and shook his head until the fog of exhaustion was gone. He picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID, then answered, trying to sound like his normal self. “Hello, Webbigail. Are you three ready to be picked up from the beach?”

“Uncle Scrooge, we need you down at the Duckburg Pier _now_! We found Louie! He’s in trouble!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunaris gins up support for his war against earth, using Donald as an unwitting pawn in his game. Louie makes a series of bad decisions, causing the family's search for him to reach an unfortunate climax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. It's been, what, a month and a half? Sorry about that. It's partly because I've been really busy, but it's mostly because I just haven't had the inspiration to write. The new spate of Ducktales episodes have breathed some new life into me, though. This chapter is extra long to make up for how long it took for me to get it finished. Enjoy!
> 
> As a warning, there are a few references to blood and other injuries in this and the upcoming chapters. Nothing too graphic, but I thought I'd say something about it anyway.

It had been days (or, at least, what felt like days) since Donald had interacted with another living soul, save a few strange moon insects that would crawl around on the floor and walls. At first, they made interesting company, if only because Donald had no idea if they were venomous or had stingers or were dangerous in some other way. After they proved themselves to be harmless, they became very easy to ignore.

Donald had never felt more isolated in his life. The moon had, unfortunately, continued its slow rotation, and the earth was no longer visible through the window of his prison cell. Donald’s goal was now literally out of sight. The moon takes about 29 days to complete one revolution around the earth, and about 27 days to rotate once on its axis. Donald never expected to be in a situation where that piece of trivial knowledge was practical. He kind of wished he didn’t know that, in fact. It meant that he probably wouldn’t get another glimpse of the earth – his home, his _family’s_ home – for another few earth weeks at least.

Despite his dark and depressed state of mind, Donald did manage to find small and fleeting moments of reprieve. His OxyChew was working wonders. With all his neurotic quirks, Donald often forgot that Gyro was, in fact, a genius. The gum provided him all the nutrients he needed to survive. It even kept his hygiene pristine; he hadn’t showered in weeks but was somehow in much better condition than he was when he was sent on this “vacation,” despite the added stress. Best of all, the OxyChew had yet to lose its delicious flavor. If he closed his eyes he could pretend that he was a kid again, stealing black licorice candies out of Scrooge’s candy jars. The façade never lasted long, but it was something.

This was all often not enough to drive away the feeling of hopelessness. Donald had considered giving up more than once, but he never considered it for long. The craft that had brought him to the moon was, without a doubt, the Spear of Selene. It was the first piece of tangible evidence anyone had received in ten years regarding Della’s disappearance. Had she managed to find her way back to earth? After a decade? If anyone could pull something like that off, it’d be her.

Donald constantly thought about Della finally getting to meet the boys – _her_ boys – and it never failed to stretch a smile across his beak. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he adopted it as his own personal canon. Della was with her boys right now; he truly believed it. They were making up for ten years of lost time. It was not lost on Donald how cruel it was that fate had placed him on the moon when he could be enjoying a nice summer day with his twin sister and his nephews, but at least they were happy. That thought alone was enough to keep him going. Enough to convince himself that someday he’d get to join them.

The squeal of the hinges to his cell doors was an incredibly welcome sound, even if all of his interactions with the Moonlanders thus far had been entirely negative. Donald looked up to see a woman with purple skin and golden armor. The armor was seriously made of _gold_ ; Donald had seen enough of the stuff in his lifetime to identify it immediately. He imagined she must be a woman of status. She was wearing a concerned look on her face that appeared sincere, but Donald was wary.

“I…” the woman started. She stuttered for a few moments before pausing. It seemed she was struggling to find the words to say. Donald was not in any mood to talk, so he stared at her silently as she found her verbal footing.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve had to endure so far, earthling. I’ve been trying to talk to you for several days now, and this is the first chance I’ve gotten. The window of time we have is short, so-”

“What do you all want from me? What is going to happen to me?”

Donald had finally gotten a chance to voice the questions he’d been asking in his head over and over for the entirety of his imprisonment. It was odd to hear his own voice, and the questions were blurted out in an almost desperate fashion. The woman’s concerned look returned. Donald couldn’t tell if the look was because she was trying to parse his speech or if it was because she didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.

“I’m not here to answer questions, earthling. I have things I need to tell you. First, though: what is your name?”

Donald did not answer immediately. He still didn’t have any real reason to trust this woman. After a few moments, the woman seemed to acknowledge his reluctance. “My name is Lieutenant Penumbra,” she introduced herself, “I am second in command of the moon’s military forces. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me or anyone else, I just ask that-”

“Donald, my name is Donald. Donald Duck.”

“I’m sorry, if you could just-”

“I know, speak slower,” Donald replied with a defeated huff. “My name is Donald Duck,” he repeated, trying to enunciate as much as he physically could.

Penumbra’s eyes went wide. “You’re Della’s brother…”

Donald sprang to his feet and ran toward the woman. He barely reacted when his chains stretched to their maximum length and violently snapped him backward. He did this with enough force to pull the anchors for his chains a few inches out of the wall, and a few pieces of concrete fell to the floor. It honestly hurt quite a bit, but Donald didn’t care. “You know Della? Where is she? Is she alright?”

“She made her way back to earth. Only hours before you showed up, in fact. I hope you’re not as annoying as she is.”

Donald fell to his knees. He felt overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. He was laughing and throwing a tantrum simultaneously. He was overjoyed to learn that his head-canon was basically correct: Della had returned to earth and had probably reunited with Scrooge and met the boys. Confirmation that his sister was alive brought him the most glee he’d ever felt in his life. But he was also angry. He and Della had essentially switched spots after _ten years_ without actually getting to see each other. That was the type of thing that could only happen to someone as unlucky as him. It was infuriating.

Penumbra watched with a confused look as Donald had his episode. _Boy, are earthlings strange,_ she thought to herself. Aloud, she asked, “Are you finished? I have important things to tell you.”

Donald took a few deep breaths and looked Penumbra in the eyes, giving her a short, determined nod.

Penumbra stepped back toward the cell door, giving cautious glances down the hallway in both directions to ensure their privacy. Once she was convinced nobody was within earshot, she turned back to Donald. “General Lunaris, the man who had you arrested… he’s my superior and the leader of the Moonlanders. This man has a fiery hatred for you earth-dwellers. A _genocidal_ hatred. If his plans succeed, _nobody_ on earth will be safe. And he’s about to move on to a critical phase-”

Penumbra’s words were cut off by the creak of a door opening down the hallway, accompanied by a gaggle of voices. Penumbra cursed under her breath and turned back to Donald.

“There’s so much more I need to tell you,” she began with a hushed voice, “but we’re out of time. For what it’s worth, Donald, I’m really sorry about this. But I can’t have my cover blown. Not yet.”

“What?”

That was all Donald managed to utter before Penumbra drew the weapon holstered at her side, aiming it directly at Donald. “ _Get on the ground NOW, earthling!”_

Before Donald even had a chance to reply, he felt the intense pain of white-hot electricity coursing through his veins. His screams echoed throughout the cell block until he finally fell unconscious.

Penumbra watched the duck collapse to the ground in front of her. She continued to train her stun ray on his figure, even though he was obviously out cold.

“Lieutenant Penumbra, what’s going on? Are you alright? What are you doing down here?”

Penumbra slowly lowered her weapon, trying as best she could to regulate her breathing. “General Lunaris,” she began, “I heard that you were planning to take the prisoner to your rally today. I came down here to prepare him for the transfer, but he attempted to overpower me. He nearly pulled his chains out of the wall!”

“I appreciate your tenacity, lieutenant!” Lunaris replied warmly. “But these earthlings are dangerous. You should have never attempted to deal with one by yourself. You could have gotten hurt!”

The soldiers that accompanied Lunaris began warily removing Donald from his bindings, handling his unconscious body like it was an armed bomb. In that moment, Penumbra realized just how effective Lunaris’ propagandizing had been. In a few weeks’ time, Lunaris had managed to convince the entire population that the earthlings were dangerous and an existential threat to their society, despite the fact that everyone had met Della and had, for the most part, liked her.

“I know, General,” Penumbra said, not removing her gaze from Donald, who had been hoisted over one of the soldier’s shoulders. “I underestimated his strength. It won’t happen again.”

Lunaris gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “The day that we defeat the earthling menace once and for all is fast approaching. The Moonlanders will live in fear no longer.”

“I look forward to that day,” Penumbra responded as convincingly as she could. Her eyes never left Donald’s body as it bobbed up and down with the stride of the soldier who was carrying him. The duck was unwittingly about to become Lunaris’ greatest propaganda tool yet. Penumbra couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

 

\---

 

“Uncle Scrooge, we need you down at the Duckburg Pier _now_! We found Louie! He’s in trouble!”

After receiving that call, the following few hours were a sleep-deprived blur for Scrooge McDuck. He knew Louie was in some sort of trouble with the law, but he didn’t know exactly what type of trouble. Webby was too excited and upset to be intelligible when she called him.

Launchpad arrived at the mansion in record time to pick up Scrooge and Della. The ride to the Duckburg Pier was silent and tense; even Launchpad read the situation well enough to know he shouldn’t try to yuk it up with his passengers.

They linked up with Webby and she told them what she and the boys had seen: Louie being pursued by police officers. Webby’s energy and unwavering positivity seemed to lighten the mood in the limo, and she was wildly theorizing about what she’d seen. Maybe the police weren’t chasing Louie, maybe they were chasing someone else and Louie was helping! Or maybe Louie had been framed for some awful crime! Della’s favorite theory of Webby’s was that Louie had somehow unearthed a global conspiracy about a cabal of lizard people that run the world, and their agents within the Duckburg Police Department were after Louie. Della’s own theory, however, was that Louie had done something stupid and illegal and had gotten tossed in a police car. Maybe she and Louie had much more in common than she thought! She’d had a handful of similar experiences with law enforcement when she was a teenager. Louie was just a little ahead of the curve!

The group found Huey and Dewey sitting on the curb at the entrance to the alleyway that Louie had been cornered in. They were both still dealing with the effects of the sleeping gas: Dewey was repeatedly dozing off while Huey tried to keep him awake. It took Huey a little while to coherently explain what had happened.

“He… Louie had stolen a money clip and a watch and some other things,” Huey said groggily, trying the wipe the heaviness from his eyelids with his forearm. “He pretty much admitted to that. We found him after he lost the police officers. He used some sort of sleeping gas on us to get away.”

Della checked the two boys over multiple times. Taking their pulse, checking their breathing patterns, shining a light in their eyes and looking at their pupils… they seemed okay. Scrooge was convinced that a trip to the hospital was entirely unnecessary. Huey seemed to be in agreement. Dewey was less than half awake, but he seemed uninjured. Della became extremely concerned when, during the ride home, Dewey slurred the phrase “I am the ssssshhhound of the summer, I am the numbah one jam,” before he started laughing uncontrollably. Huey reassured Della that Dewey’s nonsense talk was much more likely the result of anesthesia-induced delirium than extensive brain damage.

Huey and Dewey seemed like they were back to normal by the time they arrived back at the mansion. Pulling up to the mansion, Launchpad took out one of the ornate handrail posts at the bottom of the staircase up to the front entrance. That was, surprisingly, Launchpad’s first crash of the day.

The kids bolted inside the mansion as soon as the car came to a complete stop. Della and Scrooge were ready to head back into town to look for Louie, but the crash had disabled the limo. Della didn’t think anyone could possibly repair the mangled mess (at least not in a reasonable time frame), but Scrooge assured her that Launchpad could repair literally anything.

“I don’t believe it. I’m going to sit here and watch,” Della huffed, sitting at the top of the stairway. “This would take _me_ at least a few days to completely fix. There’s no way this guy can do it at all, let alone in less than an hour.”

Launchpad stood upright, holding a massive metal wrench tight to his chest. “I… I can’t do it while someone is looking,” he said bashfully. Della raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how he does it either, lass,” Scrooge interjected, “but every time I leave him to repair anything, he has it in pristine condition by the time I return.”

Della hopped down from the staircase, landing just in front of Launchpad and pressing an accusatory finger into his chest. “I don’t know what dark secrets you have, but I _will_ find out!” she bellowed before storming into the mansion, passing an amused-looking Scrooge.

“Alright then, Launchpad! Have this fixed up for me by the time we’re done with dinner,” Scrooge said cheerfully.

“Aye-aye, Mr. McDee!” Launchpad replied just as cheerfully, completely unperturbed by Della’s aggression.

The family had their first meal together since that fateful breakfast. Beakley prepared all of the children’s favorite foods. The conversation around the table was lively. The kids were laughing and goofing off. Della envied them; even after the day they’d had, they were finding ways to enjoy themselves. She hadn’t stopped feeling completely overwhelmed since Louie ran away.

The kids wanted to hear another one of Della’s adventure stories. At first, she told them that she wasn’t in the mood. But they kept pestering and pressuring until she felt she had no choice. She launched into the epic tale of the Duck family’s first visit to Shangri-La, a place that is much less harmonious and peaceful than advertised. Her story started out slow, but eventually, Della found her storytelling rhythm. Before long, she was standing on the table (despite Beakley’s objections) reenacting her battle with a Tibetan dragon.

It was the first time Della felt normal in more than three days. In her mind, she berated herself for how silly she’d been. She spent a dang _decade_ on the moon, not letting _anything_ keep her down. She’d removed and replaced her own _leg_ , for Selene’s sake! Getting back to earth required ten years of grueling work, and the whole time, her chin was high. One incident with an angsty child throwing a fit managed to break her confidence? Silly. That’s the only way she could describe it. _Silly._

 

\---

 

As Della told her tale, Scrooge slipped away to his office. Louie had given the family a huge breakthrough in their search for him, and Scrooge was going to use that to pin down exactly where he was and exactly who he was with. Scrooge was sure that he had enough clues to work with. Now all he had to do was put the pieces of this puzzle together.

His first order of business was contacting the police department to get a copy of the police report for the incident at the pier. Scrooge, of course, had connections in the police department, including the chief herself. Unfortunately, Office Cabrera informed him that the report was still being “processed,” and she could not discuss the details of an ongoing investigation. Despite Scrooge’s pleading, Officer Cabrera held firm.

Just like for every other plan of his, Scrooge had a plan B. He did _not_ look forward to resorting to it. Nobody on the up-and-up seemed to have any idea what Louie had been up to over the past few days. The fact that he was pickpocketing wealthy tourists at the pier suggested that Louie wasn’t hanging out with people on the up-and-up. He needed eyes into Duckburg’s criminal underbelly. He picked up the phone and swallowed his pride.

“McDuck!”

It was a rough greeting, practically screamed into the receiver. It hurt Scrooge’s ears. Rubbing his temples to stave off his already-forming headache, Scrooge replied, “Good evening, Ma Beagle.”

“For what reason is the richest duck in the world calling this humble, working-class woman? It’s an honor to be talking to the Beagle family’s biggest financier!”

“Aye, I’ve financed you lot with all the junk you’ve stolen from me!” Scrooge yelled angrily. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he calmed himself down enough to continue. “Ma, I need to ask a favor of ye…”

“Fifty-thousand,” Ma Beagle bluntly demanded.

“Fif…” Scrooge stuttered, dumbfounded. “Fifty- _thousand_ dollars? Are you out of yer mind? I’d get more return on investment if I dropped fifty-thousand dollars into an active volcano! Ye donnae even know what I need!”

“Well, fifty-thousand is my price, McDuck! Take it or leave it!”

“Ach, leave it! Why would I _ever_ willingly give money to you crooked canines?” Scrooge hissed. “I’ll find the boy meself!”

“Ohhhhhh, I get it now!” Ma Beagle replied, practically singing her words.

“What are ye on about, ye daft dog?”

“Well, a few dozen of my boys told me they had a run-in with one of your nephews a few nights back!” Ma Beagle said. “I didn’t believe ‘em at the time, too many odd details that didn’t make any sense. Why would a young boy, Scrooge McDuck’s nephew, no less, be at the crummiest bar in town? I just assumed that they were too dumb to come up with a convincing story about why they started brawling with each other and trashed some poor idiot’s bar.”

“Bar? How would Louie even get into-”

“But suddenly,” Ma Beagle continued, not letting Scrooge finish his question, “their story is a little more believable! Scrooge, did you lose one?”

“What do ye mean?” Scrooge asked even though he knew exactly what she meant. His voice faltered a little, and Ma Beagle immediately picked up on it.

“Oh my goodness, you did!” Ma Beagle exclaimed with uproarious laughter, “One of those boys ditched ya’, didn’t he? Oh, this is amazing!”

“Aye, laugh it up,” Scrooge replied. His irritation was rapidly growing. “I’m still doing a much better job with him than you did with any of your boys!”

“Here’s the thing, Scrooge: I didn’t _try_ with any of my boys. By the time they were ten, I knew it was time to give up on them. But you… you actually _care_ about your family and you _still_ lost one!”

_“You tell him, Ma!”_ shouted a dumb, brutish voice from somewhere in the junkyard.

“Shut up, Bigtime! I’m on the dang phone!”

“Look, Ma,” Scrooge said, sighing, “This call was obviously a waste of both of our times…”

“Oh, I have the information you need, Scrooge. My price is still fifty-thousand. It’ll pay for the medical bills. Your boy and that old hag put a few dozen of my boys in the hospital that night.”

“Old hag?” Scrooge repeated slowly. Which “old hag” could Ma possibly be referring to?

Ma Beagle cursed, realizing that she had completely destroyed her own bargaining position. “I didn’t say anything about an old hag,” she blurted unconvincingly.

The realization hit Scrooge like a ton of bricks. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. He felt incredibly stupid for not realizing it earlier. Scrooge slammed the phone down, breathing more and more heavily as he got angrier and angrier. Over the decades, that woman had crossed nearly every line Scrooge had drawn. The only lines she wouldn’t step over were the ones that involved his family. That had obviously changed. Scrooge was livid.

He pulled the phone back off the receiver and dialed her number. She was about to get an earful, he’d make sure of that.

 

\---

 

“Seriously, kid?”

“I told you, Goldie. It’s way too boring in that house.”

Goldie hadn’t left Louie much choice. She tried to ditch him at the coastal estate _again,_ droning on and on about how this mission was “too dangerous” for him. Louie wasn’t having it. He wasn’t going to spend another day alone and bored to death in that stuffy old house.

That’s why he’d stowed away amongst all the gear in her jeep, which she conveniently drove into the loading deck of her private plane. They were already in the air when she finally found him.

Goldie, strangely enough, didn’t seem angry. All her expression betrayed was a mild irritation. It was like she was expecting this. Louie put his best effort into looking as smug as possible, trying to draw a reaction from her.

“Anyway, we’re already in the air. Guess you’re gonna have to let me tag along!” Louie said with a self-satisfied smirk. He freed himself from the pile of supplies in Goldie’s jeep, hopping down to the loading deck of the plane. He quickly dusted himself off and planted both hands firmly in the pocket of his hoodie as he awaited her response.

Goldie shrugged. “I guess that’s exactly what I’ll have to do,” she sighed out, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you about the dangers here. If you get yourself killed, that’s on you. I’ll walk away with a clean conscience.”

Louie gulped. He tried to hide how rattled he was behind the same smug look he’d been wearing since Goldie found him. She saw right through him.

“Anyway, come join me up on the flight deck so I can give you a rundown of what we’re after today. I wouldn’t want you going blind into something _this_ deadly, would I?” Goldie taunted. She disappeared up a ladder and through a trapdoor that Louie assumed lead to the flight deck.

Louie didn’t know what he was thinking. It seemed his need to avoid boredom eclipsed his sense of self-preservation. Goldie had repeated over and over that this particular adventure was very dangerous, and Louie hadn’t given it any thought until he was committed. He was feeling the type of impending doom that someone feels at the peak of a roller coaster just before the drop.

Louie gulped again, literally swallowing his fear. “Well, it’s too late now,” he said meekly to no one in particular. He’d made his bed, and he was going to lie in it. Louie did his best to convince himself that this was a matter of personal growth instead of a matter of suicidal stupidity. At least he was finishing something he started for the first (and possibly last) time in his life!

Louie climbed the ladder and hoisted himself onto the flight deck, closing the hatch that lead down to the loading dock behind him. Goldie was seated at a table that folded out of the wall, wearing a pair of reading glasses so she could examine the map she’d laid out on the table in front of her. With a finger, she gestured for Louie to come to her. Louie plopped himself in the seat across from her. They sat in silence for a few moments as Goldie’s focus remained on the map. Eventually, she glanced upward and made eye contact with Louie.

“How much do you know about the indigenous cultures of Colombia?” Goldie asked.

“Goldie, I’m _ten_ ,” Louie replied. Thinking for a moment, he added, “Then again, I’m positive my brother could tell you a thing or two. Huey’s a walking encyclopedia.”

“You could have just said ‘no,’ kid. I wasn’t looking for your life’s story.”

Goldie and Louie exchanged unimpressed looks before Goldie continued. “What we are after today,” she said as she hoisted up an old, poorly-bound book, dropping it on the table with a loud thud, “is the staff of the caciques.”

Louie examined the few black and white photographs on the page Goldie had turned too. The staff in question looked ostentatiously ornate. It was made of wood, but it was gilded with a shiny trim that Louie guessed was gold. There were jewels embedded in the thing, but they were hard to identify without color. He could still tell it was _very_ valuable.

“The staff was passed down from chieftain to chieftain, tribe to tribe – whoever dominated this particular region of the Andes. The Muiscas were the last tribe to possess the staff before their civilization was destroyed by European conquest. To keep the staff out of the hands of the invaders, they hid it deep within a temple that they carved into the side of a mountain. The place is lousy with traps; many have tried, but the only man who has seen the staff since it was stowed away is the man who took these pictures about a half-century ago.”

Louie raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me this guy made it all the way to the treasure and just… didn’t take it?”

Goldie laughed. “Right?” She said with disbelief, “Apparently he cared more about some ‘anthropology’ and ‘cultural history’ hogwash than he cared about a payday. I don’t try to understand it. You shouldn’t either.”

At that moment, Goldie’s phone began to ring. She reached into her satchel and retrieved it, holding the phone out in front of her so she could see who was calling. Louie found her reaction odd. Goldie looked half amused and half concerned.

“I’m surprised it took him this long,” was all Goldie said. She turned the phone to face Louie so he could see who was calling.

_Scrooge McDuck._

“D’yoh boy,” Louie grumbled.

“How mad do you think he is?” Goldie asked. She wasn’t even trying to hide her glee at the thought of sending Scrooge into a rage.

“I think you’re gonna learn a few of those colorful Gaelic words that he tells me not to repeat,” Louie replied.

_“Hiiiiiiii Scroogey,”_ Goldie greeted, tacking on a cheesy kissy noise at the end. It was extremely suggestive and Louie made sure that she saw him gag. From several feet away, Louie could hear Scrooge screaming through Goldie’s phone. Goldie had to pull it away from her ear to prevent hearing damage.

“I don’t want to hear any of it, ye manky tramp! Ye know why I’m callin’! Put the boy on the line!”

Goldie reached her arm out and offered the phone to Louie. “It’s for you.”

Louie had been on the receiving end of quite a few of Scrooge’s angry rants. It was never a fun experience. At least this time they were separated by a few thousand miles. Louie grabbed the phone and brought it to his ear.

“Heya, Uncle Scrooge,” Louie greeted as if the past four days hadn’t happened.

“Louie, are you alright?” Scrooge asked. Louie was expecting a tongue-lashing, not heartfelt sincerity. It gave him a feeling of emotional whiplash.

“I’m fine, Uncle Scrooge,” Louie replied. “Are Huey and Dewey okay? I… I didn’t want to-”

“They’re fine, Louie,” Scrooge replied warmly. “They’re just fine. Though they’re a tad worried about you, lad. As is yer mother. As am I.”

“Well, I hope I can put your hearts and minds at ease,” Louie said flippantly, “there’s nothing to worry about. I’m making my own money. I’m making a name for myself. What’s the word you always use? Ah, that’s it: I’m ‘ _applying’_ myself. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted me to do?”

“Aye, Louie, but I was talking about so much more than just making money or earning a reputation. What I want to instill in you and yer brothers is-”

“We’re way past the time for these life lessons, Uncle Scrooge,” Louie interrupted. After a few moments of silence, Louie sighed. “Look, I still love you and Huey and Dewey and mom. I love everyone to death! But I’m serious about going my own way. More serious than I’ve been about anything. Things are looking up! This partnership with Goldie-”

_“Partnership?”_ Scrooge asked incredulously. “That woman does not do ‘partnerships.’ She will stab ye in the back eventually. I have half a mind to just let that woman con you, but I don’t put it past her to just leave you fae dead somewhere! Ye have nae idea what yer getting intae!”

Louie smirked. It was easy to tell when Scrooge was getting angry. The angrier Scrooge was, the more Scottish he sounded. “Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough what I’m getting into,” Louie responded lackadaisically. “Something about a staff of the caiques? Caciques?”

Goldie snatched the phone away from Louie and spiked it into the ground, destroying it. “Kid, I didn’t think you could _possibly_ be that dumb. He’s gonna follow us!”

“So what? We have like a three hour head-start!”

“Yeah, but with that pilot of his, he’ll cut that lead to nothing!” Goldie chided. “I swear, I think that man might be a warlock of some sort. Nothing about him makes sense.”

“Don’t try to figure Launchpad out. You’ll just hurt your brain,” Louie concurred.

Goldie pinched the bridge of her bill and exhaled heavily. “Well, kid, looks like this is officially a race. Thank you, by the way, for making this _so_ much more difficult than it needed to be.”

“Any time, Goldie.”

 

\---

 

Penumbra looked out over the vast crowd in front of her. She couldn’t even see where the crowd ended. General Lunaris had managed to convene essentially every citizen of the moon so that he could update them on “the earth’s serious escalation of the conflict.”

Tension radiated off the crowd. The entire population of the moon was stricken with fear. Fear of an enemy that was not really an enemy. Penumbra shifted in her seat uncomfortably. The Moonlanders had been completely infected by Lunaris’ anti-earth ideology. Even if she _did_ manage to foil Lunaris’ plot, her fellow Moonlanders would _still_ fear earth. How long would it be before a _different_ Lunaris stepped up to reignite this phony war?

Penumbra snapped out of her thoughts when Lunaris began to speak.

“My fellow Moonlanders,”

“Many generations ago, the people of our fine land made a decision to protect our civilization by hiding it from the eyes of those on earth who would wish to exploit us. As the generations passed, our methods for doing so became more and more advanced: today, a state-of-the-art array for holographic projectors prevent the earthlings from seeing us, but allow us to keep an eye on them. And for centuries, the earthlings have been none the wiser.

“Why did our ancestors deem it necessary to hide from the earth? We know why: the earth is inhabited by a covetous and violent people. They’re a people who pursue wealth and power without conscience; they’re a people who would and _have_ killed in pursuit of those things. We have proof of this. Countless times we have observed the people of earth war amongst themselves and turn their weapons on each other, creating death on an unimaginable scale.

“If they are unafraid to commit such violence against their own people, what qualms would they have about directing that violence at us? That is the question that our ancestors asked themselves. If the earthlings knew just how much gold could be found on the moon, they would colonize us at their first opportunity. Our ancestors moved to protect us, to ensure that we did not become subjects of a ruthless earthling empire.

“Our people have remained safe and hidden for generations and generations. In that time, many of us had forgotten exactly why we hide, myself included. I allowed Della Duck, who we now know is an earthling spy, access to our civilization. I gave her the resources to make her way back to earth, blinded by my own naivety, my own desire to see the good in people. I thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be a chance to establish a peaceful relationship with the people of earth.

“I was wrong. I made a grave error in trusting Della Duck. For that, I will never be able to adequately apologize. Now the earth knows of our society. I did everything in my power to establish diplomatic channels with the earth. I was met with silence. I had no choice but to assume the worst: that the earth is actively plotting against us. Now I have proof. Today, I reveal that the earth has sent another spy!”

Penumbra watched as Donald was roughly pulled onto the platform and thrown to his knees beside Lunaris. The duck’s hands were bound behind his back, both legs were tied to anchor weights, and his beak was secured shut by rope. Donald didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on around him. The duck’s eyes were firmly focused on the earth high above.

“This is Donald Duck, brother to the infamous Della Duck! In the course of our interrogations, we learned by Donald’s own admission that the earth is preparing an assault on our homeland!”

The crowd broke into a roar of worried chatter. Donald began wildly shaking his head, trying to speak through his bound bill to deny Lunaris’ claims.

“The people of the moon will not be victims of violent earthling subjugation!” Lunaris bellowed.

The crowd cheered in agreement. Something was rolled onto the stage on a cart, but it was shrouded by a sheet. Penumbra eyed the object curiously. Lunaris had obviously been up to something without telling his second-in-command.

“I wished only for this conflict to be resolved by peaceful means,” Lunaris said darkly. “The earth is not interested in any peaceful resolution. That is why _we must strike first_. That is why we have developed the deatmospherifier!”

Lunaris pulled the sheet off of the thing on the stage, revealing a large black capsule. Penumbra’s eyes widened.

It was a warhead.

“This bomb can absorb the atmosphere of the earth and transform it into something _we_ can survive in. It transforms the surface of the earth into something resembling the surface of the moon! With this secret weapon, we will initiate _our_ invasion of the earth.”

A holographic screen appeared behind Lunaris. A map of the earth stretched across the screen, with various major cities highlighted with a red X and a dotted line connecting them and the moon.

“Our missiles will be ready for launch in only a few days. The cities we will target will be the centers of the earth’s military and industrial might,” Lunaris proclaimed. The general turned away from the microphone and faced Donald, giving him a devious smile.

“Cities like Duckburg.”

Donald was mean-mugging Lunaris with all the steely determination he could muster. It took him a few seconds to process what Lunaris was telling him.

This maniac was going to destroy Duckburg. And he was going to kill everyone in the city. That included his Uncle Scrooge. That included his sister.

That included his _boys_.

“We hope that this act will be enough to bring earth to the negotiating table. If they refuse our demands, we will-”

A loud, unintelligible screeching overwhelmed the arena, causing the microphones to squeal and everyone to cover their ears. Before anyone realized what was going on, a white blur was on top of Lunaris, and it looked like it was tearing him to shreds.

Donald had somehow snapped the rope silencing him with just the force of his jaw. The bindings on his hands were nowhere to be seen and the duck had somehow pulled apart the cast-iron chains that anchored his ankles. And Donald had done it in a matter of seconds. Penumbra’s jaw was on the floor, her eyes transfixed on the furious duck in front of her.

“Somebody get this thing off me!” Lunaris screamed out desperately, a far cry from the leader and statesman he’d been throughout his speech. The crowd was in an absolute panic.

_“You will not... hurt… my… family!”_ Donald screeched, interspersing every word with a fist to Lunaris’ face.

“Lieutenant Penumbra!” somebody cried out, “Do something!”

Penumbra shook her head and finally became aware of all the chaos around her. Standing and drawing her weapon, she apologized to Donald under her breath for having to stun him twice in a day.

Penumbra’s stun ray smacked Donald square in the back, and he let out a wail of pain before collapsing on top of Lunaris. The general harshly pushed the unconscious duck off of him and sat upright. His face was already swelling, and streaks of blood were flowing down it. With some effort, Lunaris picked himself up and approached the podium he’d been giving his speech at, leaning on it for support.

The crowd was still in a frenzy. Lunaris watched the commotion and he flashed a dark smile across his face.

“Do you not _see_ why we must destroy the earthling menace?!” Lunaris shouted before spitting a glob of blood onto the stage. The crowd stalled and turned their attention back to their leader. “Do you not _see_ how brutish, how violent, how _strong_ their kind can be?! Are we going to sit by and allow them to overrun our great moon? We will _not!_ Our invasion of earth is nothing but a defensive measure to ensure that we are not conquered and enslaved by _that!_ ” Lunaris pointed at Donald, still in a heap on the floor of the platform. The crowd exploded into cheers and war cries.

Penumbra wondered if it was too late to stop Lunaris’ plans.

 

\---

 

“Welp, you were right!” Louie admitted to Goldie as they watched the Sunchaser pass overhead then crash into the side of the mountain they had just scaled.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Goldie huffed. “A three-hour lead cut to just minutes.”

“How could they possibly fly that fast?” Louie asked. “I’m sure there’s like some laws of physics being broken here or something.”

“Well, thanks again for making this happen, Louie. This is just fantastic.”

“No use complaining about it now,” Louie replied. “Let’s get a move on.”

Louie lifted a leg to step into the cavern that would lead them to the staff of the caciques. Before he could even put his foot down, Goldie grabbed him and pulled him back.

_“Hey!”_ Louie complained. Goldie didn’t say anything smart in reply, just pointed down to a tripwire near his foot. Louie hadn’t even seen it. He followed the wire to the wall, where it was connected to a pulley system and finally to a large stone hammer on a swivel, primed to annihilate whichever poor soul broke the wire.

Louie laughed nervously. “L-Ladies first?” he stammered.

Goldie didn’t reply. She just stepped over the wire and into the cavern. Louie followed, gingerly tiptoeing over the death trap.

Louie and Goldie found themselves descending a set of stairs that had been crudely chiseled out of the rock. It was apparent that whoever constructed this temple was rushed to do so. The bottom of the stairs were brightly illuminated, bathed in a flickering orangish-yellow light. Louie could tell that the light’s source was fire. And by the looks of it, there was _a lot_ of fire.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Louie’s fears were confirmed. Through a small archway Louie could see many jets of flame being shot across the room, seemingly randomly. It was _hot_ , even standing in an entirely different room. Louie became very aware of the hoodie he was wearing.

Goldie approached the archway that separated the stairs from the room on fire. Brushing away some dust from the lodestone revealed a series of symbols. Goldie quickly pulled her guidebook out of her satchel. After a few seconds of searching through it, she found what she was looking for.

“Ahh, it says ‘challenge one,’” Goldie said. “Looks like the ancient Muiscas set up an obstacle course for us.”

“If this is challenge one, I think I should just back out now,” Louie said nervously. “I’ve heard that fire is easily one of the _least_ pleasant ways to die.”

“You’re not gonna back out on me now, kid. Your family is right on our heels. If you’re chickening out now, you might as well wait for them to find you and leave with them, because this agreement we have will be _over._ Null and void.”

Louie rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Goldie. Let’s just get a move on. What happens happens.”

The pair stepped into the room full of fire. Flame seemed to jettison out of tiny holes in the walls at random, enveloping sections of a narrow path that cut across a deep ravine. Crossing the ravine on that path would require good timing and adept maneuvering to avoid being set ablaze by the flames.

“Alright, Louie. All you gotta do is watch how I do this and emulate me perfectly. Got it?”

Without waiting for a response. Goldie took off in a sprint toward all the flame. She dove over the first jet of flame, tucking her body and rolling when she hit the ground to pass under another flame. She sprang back to her feet, juking left and right to avoid more flame. With one last baseball slide, she was safely on the other side.

“Easy, right? All you have to do is that!” Goldie yelled before breaking into laughter. “Good luck, kid!”

Louie lined himself up, crouching down like he was about to take off on a 100-meter dash. He just needed to _do_ this. The more he thought about it, the less willing he’d be to do it. He was trying to join the big leagues: if he wanted to be successful, he’d need to be able to do something like this.

Louie popped into a sprint toward the flame. He was closing in on his possible demise at what felt like a million miles per hour. Just as he geared to leap over the first jet of flame, all the flame in the room disappeared. Louie, not knowing exactly what to, came to a stop.

“Oh, so that’s what that does!” Goldie said. “Louie! I found a button that disables the trap!”

“Oh, thank god,” Louie said breathlessly through a sigh of relief. Just as he was preparing to take a step onto the path across the ravine, a jettison of flame shot just feet in front of him. Louie screamed and jumped back. Just as quickly, the flames stopped.

“Apparently I can turn the traps back on with the same button,” Goldie declared.

“How about we just step away from the button while I’m crossing this thing,” Louie pleaded.

“What, kid, you don’t trust me?”

Louie shot Goldie an irritated look. “I trust you as much as I should, Goldie.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Goldie replied. “Sure, I’m always trying to find ways to increase my wealth at the expense of others, but I wouldn’t harm a child!”

Louie marched across the chasm, thankful for every step that wasn’t being used to avoid being burnt to a crisp. Just as he was reaching safety on the other side, Louie felt a sharp pain near his rear end.

_“Ah!”_ Louie screamed, jumping into the air. He landed safely on the other side of all the flame, which had conspicuously been turned back on. He quickly realized that a small flame was burning his tailfeathers. He quickly extinguished it by sitting on it.

Goldie broke into uncontrolled laughter. “I… I-”

“What was _that_ for?!” Louie asked, still rubbing his tailfeathers.

“I’m so sorry, kid, I _had_ to,” Goldie managed to say through her laughter. Louie kept staring at her with absolute contempt. “Oh, lighten up, Louie! It was just a little prank!”

“No, Goldie. Whoopie cushions are ‘just a little prank.’ Firecrackers are ‘just a little prank.’ If you had pressed the button when I was just a few inches back I’d be burnt to a crisp!”

“Sure, but I didn’t! I waited for you to be _just_ out of harm’s way. And it has the added bonus of forcing Scrooge to complete the challenge like I did!”

“I think like half my tailfeathers are gone, Goldie! I’m going to look so stupid until they grow back!”

“Okay, fine, Louie. _I’m sorry_. Let’s get moving before your family catches up to us.”

Goldie walked out of the room down the hall that lead to the next challenge. When she was just around the corner, Louie slipped over to the button and deactivated the trap. There was no reason to put Scrooge or anyone else in danger because of _his_ actions. Louie was sure that he and Goldie had enough of a lead that it wouldn’t matter.

Louie followed where Goldie had gone, eventually coming across another archway with symbols etched in the lodestone. Louie assumed that it said “challenge two.”

Through the archway was a large room with some sort of pool in the middle, separating the two sides. The liquid in the pool was clearly not water. It glowed an odd green color. It looked positively radioactive.

The surface of the pool was dotted with various platforms, none more than a foot or so in size. They were abundant enough that it would be fairly easy to step from platform to platform without falling in the ooze. Goldie was curiously examining the pool of liquid. Eventually, she hoisted a fairly large stone off of the ground and threw it like a shot put onto one of the platforms. It bounced off that platform and landed on a second. However, when the rock hit the second platform, that platform sank. The rock fell into the thick ooze and began to visibly sizzle and corrode.

Whatever that ooze was, they did _not_ want to fall into it.

“So some of the platforms are stable and some are not,” Goldie thought aloud. “I can see the button on the other side. I bet it’ll make all the platforms hold weight instead of sinking like that. I need to figure out which ones won’t sink.”

Louie placed his hands in his hoodie pocket and felt something inside. “Wait a minute…”

He had the psynergy gauntlet. He pulled it out and strapped it onto his hand and wrist.

“Now _that’s_ using your brain, Louie!” Goldie commended. “Quick, hit the button on the other side and let’s cross!”

Louie focused his energy and sent a magical hand across the room from his gauntlet. Sure enough, once the button was pressed, every platform became stable, making crossing the pool fairly easy.

“It’s like we have a cheat code to skip to the end of _every_ level!” Louie said excitedly. Goldie gave him a confused look.

“I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take your word for it,” Goldie replied, taking a second to smack the button and reactivate the sinking platforms. “Good thinking bringing that gauntlet, by the way! There’s no way Scrooge will catch up now.”

Goldie continued toward the next challenge with a pep in her step. Louie once again stayed behind to deactivate the trap. He and Goldie could essentially move through the temple unimpeded at this point; they didn’t need the traps to stay ahead of his family.

And the process repeated for the rest of the challenges: Louie would use the gauntlet to deactivate the traps, he and Goldie would waltz through the challenge, Goldie would reactivate the trap, and Louie would re-deactivate it. There was no sign of Scrooge or the rest of his family, though Louie was certain they had entered the temple by this point.

Before Louie knew it, they were there. The pathway leading away from the final challenge opened up into a large chamber. Before him was a pyramid-like structure with stairs leading up to its peak, upon which there was an altar and a pedestal. The staff of the caciques was planted in the pedestal; it was a sight to behold. The staff had an ornate gold trim and many emeralds and rubies embedded inside of it.

“Raw materials alone, that thing has to be worth at least fifty million!” Louie gasped. “We’re rich!”

“Well, no, Louie, _I’m_ rich. You, on the other hand, are _almost_ rich. We need to grab the thing and get out of here first.”

Louie and Goldie started walking to the base of the stairs that ascended to the staff. Both paused and turned around when they heard a voice.

_“Worst. Adventure. Ever.”_

“Death traps are fun and all, Dewey,” Della replied, “but not every adventure needs to be death-defying.”

Scrooge, Della, Huey, and Dewey all appeared at the entrance to the chamber. They took in their surroundings, not immediately noticing Louie and Goldie.

“There is _no way_ you got through all those traps _that_ quickly!” Goldie shrieked. The family’s attention snapped to Goldie.

“What traps?” Dewey whined. “You two disabled them before we even got a chance at them!”

“Hi, Louie,” Huey tacked on.

Louie gave a noncommittal half-wave in response. Goldie, on the other hand, looked like she was about to explode. She turned to Louie with a legitimately offended look on her face. “You were on their side all along!”

“It’s not like that, Goldie,” Louie replied, “I just didn’t want them to get hurt!”

_“Awww,”_ Della gushed. She seemed genuinely touched.

“Goldie, you vexatious vixen! Give the boy back this instant!” Scrooge demanded.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “You’re making it sound like I kidnapped him, Scroogey,” she said. “Louie is here completely voluntarily. Tell him, kid.”

“She’s right, Uncle Scrooge,” Louie confirmed. “I was pretty clear about that when you called.”

“Louie, baby,” Della soothed.

“Hi, mom,” Louie replied sheepishly. “Sorry about… well… you know… everything.”

“It’s okay, Louie,” Della assured. “I understand completely. I just miss my little Rebel, you know? The past few days have been really hard without him.”

“Look, mom, I… I don’t have any ill-will for you or anyone else. You are all still my family,” Louie said, “but there is a reason I’ve joined forces with Goldie. I’ve learned more practical lessons in the past four days than I’ve learned in the past year of adventuring with Scrooge!”

“She’s not teaching you how to do anything!” Scrooge belted out. “All she’s teaching you is cons and shortcuts. She’s teaching you the easy way out!”

“You call it the ‘easy way,’ we call it the ‘smart way,’” Louie replied. “I am literally _steps_ away from becoming the world’s youngest millionaire!” he shouted, pointing toward the top of the stairway where the treasure was. “Give me another couple of months, and I’ll become the world’s youngest _billionaire!_ Just watch!”

“Louie, life is about _so much_ more than money!” Huey cried out.

Dewey nodded. “You say we’re still your family, but you won’t let us be a part of your life? To me, it doesn’t sound like you actually want to be part of this family at all!”

Della moved to interject. “Huey, Dewey…” she cautioned.

“No, mom, Louie needs to hear this,” Dewey declared, “from us.”

Huey pushed his way in front of Della and Scrooge. “Louie, ask yourself something: do you want every relationship you ever establish for the rest of your life to be purely transactional? Do you _seriously_ want to surround yourself with people you can never trust _not_ to take advantage of you?”

Dewey walked up beside Huey. “We said it before in that alleyway: we love you way too much to just let you walk down this dark path, Louie.”

“Stop acting like you know what’s best for me!” Louie spat back. “I don’t need to justify _anything_ , especially not to any of you! If-”

The conversation was brought to a halt by a comically loud yawn. Goldie stretched her arms above her head to make a show of how bored she was. Smacking her lips, she said, “This… this is just _so_ boring, kid. Here’s another lesson: don’t let stupid crap like this distract you.”

Louie turned toward Goldie, then back toward his brothers. “You’re right, Goldie. There are much more important things to take care of.” Louie began to climb the stairs that lead toward the staff of the caciques. Goldie stayed at the base of the stairs, and when the rest of the family moved to follow Louie, she switched to her fighting stance.

“Sorry, everyone. This area’s off limits.”

“Out of the way, Goldie,” Scrooge demanded.

“You’re not going to keep my son away from me any longer,” Della added.

Suddenly, a duckling went soaring overhead. While everyone was distracted, Huey vaulted Dewey over Goldie’s head onto the stairs between her and Louie. Seizing the opportunity, Scrooge and Della rushed in. Goldie, thinking quickly, managed to intercept Della and trip Scrooge, bringing both of them with her to the ground.

“Move your bottom, kid!” Goldie yelled. There was no way she’d be able to contain both Della _and_ Scrooge, and Dewey had already made it past. The best she could do is give Louie as much time as possible.

Louie spared a glance back down the stairs only to see Dewey right on his tail.

“Give it up, Louie! This has gone _way_ too far!” Dewey yelled.

“Go away!” Louie screamed back.

The two ducklings began rushing up the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time. As they ascended, Dewey slowly but surely gained on his younger brother. “Louie, please!” Dewey called out, “We just don’t want you to get hurt!”

The top of the structure was fast approaching. Down below, Scrooge and Della were still struggling to get past Goldie.

Dewey desperately dove toward his brother, managing to get a hand around Louie’s leg. Louie turned around to smack his brother off of him, yelling “Don’t touch me!”

Suddenly, Louie was surrounded by a brilliant green light, and his ears were filled with the sound of a violent impact. It took Louie a second to realize what was going on.

He was still wearing the psynergy gauntlet. Louie thought back to the day he and Goldie found the gauntlet, and Goldie’s words echoed in his mind: _“The psynergy gauntlet can react poorly to wild fluctuations in emotion.”_

From below, the lights and sounds of the psynergy gauntlet activating caught everyone’s attention. A massive green palm materialized out of nowhere, smacking Dewey and sending him flying away from Louie. Nobody moved, nobody screamed; nobody seemed to be able to process what was happening. It felt like time was standing still.

Then Dewey’s body hit the stairs with a bone-chilling crunch, ragdolling the rest of the way to the bottom.

_“Dewey!”_

In a flash, Scrooge, Della, and Huey were at the boy’s side. Goldie sat up, braving a quick glance at the unconscious duckling. She could see a growing bloody spot on the back of Dewey’s head. Her eyes went wide. “Oh _no._ ”

Louie stared down to the bottom of the stairway, unblinking. He felt dizzy and extremely lightheaded. His chest felt tight, his breaths were short. His ears were ringing and were uncomfortably hot. Louie felt like he had absolutely no control of any part of his body. He could not divert his gaze from the bloody heap on the ground, no matter how much it traumatized him. As his fear and sadness and guilt paralyzed him, his thoughts raced through his head at Mach speed.

_He’s not moving._

_Oh god, he’s not moving._

_What have I done?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family races to get Dewey to a hospital. General Lunaris and Lieutenant Penumbra make a trip to earth to prepare for the invasion.

Nobody is truly fearless.

Some are blessed with great courage. Della Duck had faced death without flinching more times than she could count. She’d spent ten years on the moon, for Selene’s sake, and she didn’t _once_ think she’d perish there. She never doubted that she’d make it back to earth.

But nobody is truly fearless.

Della hadn’t experienced the feeling of fear since that cosmic storm more than ten years prior. It was a very foreign sensation: strange, and completely overwhelming. It was like she had no built-up tolerance to fear, and when something finally triggered it, it sent her emotional immune system into overdrive. And she learned that nobody, least of all herself, is truly fearless.

_“Dewey!”_

Della knelt by her son’s side and gently repositioned him so he was lying on his back. She was vaguely aware of Huey’s frantic recitation of the first-aid section of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, and of Scrooge’s equally frantic (yet delicate) search for specific injuries all over Dewey’s body. But only vaguely. The fear interfered with all of her senses. Her ears rang. Her vision was blurry. She felt like she was going to pass out.

One breath. That’s all it took. Dewey’s one spasmodic, desperate gasp for air was enough to completely dispel all of Della’s fear. In its place was unbelievable determination. Now was not the time to panic. Now was the time to act.

“Dewey, buddy, you’re going to be okay.”

Dewey was slowly drifting in and out of awareness in waves. Whenever he was conscious, he’d writhe and groan and cry, unable to form complete words. Della grabbed a flashlight from Huey and shined it into Dewey’s eyes. His pupils did not immediately react.

Not good.

“Baby, can you hear me? Can you tell me where you are?”

“Mom, it _hurts._ ” _He’s speaking, thank the lord._

“I know it hurts baby, I know. Everything is going to be alright, okay? Can you tell me what hurts?”

“It _hurts,_ mom. I…”

Dewey suddenly seized, shaking for a few moments before he got his senses back. It was then that Della noticed the blood pooling behind his head. She felt her heart freeze.

“He’s been moving all his limbs,” Scrooge offered, “I don’t think there’s a spinal injury.”

“H-He’s got a c-concussion,” Huey whimpered, “and we need to stem the bleeding from the back of his head.” With shaky hands, Huey managed to retrieve his first aid kit, fumbling with it for a few moments before managing to get his hands on some cotton pads and gauze. “H-Here, make sure not to wrap it too tight, in case his skull is fractured.” Della noted that Huey was holding up fairly well, given the circumstances. He was obviously rattled, but was still managing to be helpful and think rationally.

“Good thinking, Huey,” Scrooge said, taking the cotton and the roll of gauze from Huey. Scrooge positioned himself behind Dewey and examined the injury to the back of his head. A bloody gash extended across the back of his head, starting behind his left ear. His head was bleeding profusely.

Della and Huey knelt on either side of Dewey. Huey was still frenetically flipping through his guidebook, looking for _anything_ else that might be of use. Della took one of Dewey’s hands and enclosed it in both of hers.

“I love you, baby. It’s gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”

Dewey continued to whimper softly as Scrooge finished wrapping the gauze around his head. Scrooge stood up slowly, holding his hands in front of him and staring at the blood that stained them. His focus shifted past his hands to the woman sitting at the base of the staircase.

_“You…”_ Scrooge growled.

“Scrooge, I…” Goldie replied.

Scrooge pointed his cane at Goldie. “This is all _your_ fault!” Scrooge began to march toward Goldie, who stood up to meet him.

“You cannot blame me for this, Scrooge!” Goldie screamed back. She sounded defensive, desperate, and distraught all at once. “Nobody wanted this!”

“I don’t wantae hear it, you cruel crone! Ye better pray that that boy makes a complete recovery,” Scrooge said, his voice thick with unfiltered anger, “or you will discover a more wicked side to Scrooge McDuck than ye think is possible.” Scrooge emphasized his point by poking the end of his cane into Goldie’s stomach.

Goldie yanked on the cane, pulling Scrooge inward. She backhanded him across the face. “You will _not_ threaten me, McDuck. I would _never_ want something like this to happen to any child, let alone any of yours. And you share blame in this too for following me!”

Scrooge rubbed the side of his beak. “I have half a mind tae just…” he threatened, posturing his cane like he was about to strike her.

_“Stop it!”_

Everyone’s attention turned to Louie, who had descended the stairs. There was silence as Louie slowly walked toward his injured brother. Louie’s feet felt like cinderblocks; each step felt like it took massive amounts of effort. He was terrified of what he was going to see, but something kept his feet moving. Something inside him told him that he needed to see his brother. He needed to see the consequences for his actions. As he reached where Dewey was lying, a tidal wave of emotion overcame him.

“This is my fault. This is all my fault. I…” Louie choked out. Della quickly gestured for Huey to take her spot cradling Dewey, and she crawled over to Louie.

_“I’m so sorry!”_ Louie cried, falling to his knees and into his mother’s waiting arms. He sobbed uncontrollably into her sleeve, desperately attempting to apologize through his wailing.

“Louie, everything is going to be okay,” Della whispered.

Louie shook his head. “No, this is not okay,” he bawled. “Nothing about this is okay!”

“You’re right, Louie. But things _will be_ okay. If there’s one thing being stranded on the moon taught me, it’s that you must always believe that everything will be okay.” Louie looked up and met his mother’s gaze. Tears were falling down both of their cheeks. “Do not let fear and regret overcome you. Never stop fighting. Never give up.”

Della stood and walked back over to Dewey. “We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible,” Della instructed. Huey pulled a collapsible gurney out of his essentials kit and began to assemble it. “Nobody is as prepared for anything as a Junior Woodchuck,” Della lauded with a watery smile. The gurney was pretty bare-bones, just a simple piece of cloth stretched between two hollow metal poles. Scrooge and Della carefully lifted Dewey onto the fabric.

“Della, grab that end,” Scrooge said, pointing to the opposite end of the gurney, “I got this side.” After a short countdown, Della and Scrooge lifted Dewey. Scrooge looked toward Huey. “Sonny, I need you to try to keep Dewey awake. Keep talking to him, even if he’s not responding. Louie, I need you to lead the way. Take the torch and warn us about anything me or your mother might trip over.” Scrooge turned his focus to Goldie, who was sitting at the base of the staircase with an unreadable expression on her face. “Goldie,” Scrooge growled, “get lost. Ye can even have the blasted treasure.”

Without a word in reply, Goldie watched Scrooge and his family begin their trek out of the temple. After they had disappeared around the corner, she brought herself to her feet. “It’s not like he can _seriously_ blame me for this,” she said aloud. The acoustics of the large room made her voice sound tinny. She began to ascend the staircase slowly, one step at a time. “None of that happened because of _my_ actions,” she continued to tell herself, “if Scrooge hadn’t shown up with his family they wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If Louie hadn’t stowed away on my plane they wouldn’t have had any reason to show up at all. He’s the one who did it, anyway! How is this _my_ fault?”

A few dozen feet from the top of the staircase, a small metallic object caught Goldie’s eye. It was the psynergy gauntlet. Louie had chucked it after, well… after he chucked his brother down the stairs. Goldie stared at the thing for a few moments, contemplating whether or not she wanted to keep it. She eventually stuffed the thing into her satchel and continued toward the staff at the top. Maybe securing the treasure would make her feel better. Maybe at least a little.

 

\---

 

Louie spent the slow march out of the caverns in an all-encompassing mental fog. He’d experienced too much emotional and mental trauma in too short a time, to the point that he didn’t feel much at all. He just felt numb. His feet kept taking him forward, free of any real mental input, until he and his family were out of the temple.

The sunlight was blinding after all that time spent in dark caverns. It seemed to knock Louie out of his zombie-like state, and he was once again aware of his surroundings and in control of his motor functions. The overwhelming guilt also returned, and Louie turned around to spare a glance at Dewey.

His brother was awake, thankfully. Dewey continued to whimper and groan, occasionally speaking to complain about the pain. Dewey still wasn’t fully cognizant of what was going on; he had yet to directly reply to anyone’s questions about where the worst pain was. Della and Scrooge carefully carried the gurney like it was the Ark of the Covenant, with Huey positioned at Dewey’s side, resting Dewey’s hand in his.

Louie approached the other end of the gurney, taking his brother’s other hand into his own. As he did so, he exchanged an expressionless look with Huey.

“He’s been conscious for most of the trek out,” Huey eventually said, “which is good. It’s been a while since his last seizure, too. I think he’s going to be okay.”

Louie sighed heavily. He was relieved, but it didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at him.

“Huey, I messed up. I really, really messed up.”

“I can’t disagree, Louie,” Huey replied, “but everyone makes mistakes.” Louie moved to reply, but Huey held up a finger to stop him. “Yes, Louie, some mistakes are worse than others, but the worst mistake is to fail to learn from your other mistakes.”

“I don’t think that’s the _‘worst’_ mistake, Huey,” Louie mumbled bitterly. “I mean, I almost killed our brother.” Louie sighed, and let his shoulders sink. “And besides, I don’t think I’ll ever learn! I’ve been making progressively worse and worse mistakes all week! You and Dewey did all you could to fix me, and _this_ is how I repay the favor!” Louie’s voice was growing more emotional as he gestured toward his injured brother. “Maybe I just _can’t_ not make mistakes. Maybe I just _can’t_ be a good person.”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Louie, but I’ve made more than a few _awful_ mistakes.”

Louie and Huey turned towards their mother, who had a sheepish and melancholic grin on her face.

“I know that feeling of paralyzing guilt, Louie,” Della continued, “It’s… unpleasant… to say the least. But it means that you care. Bad people don’t feel that type of guilt. Bad people don’t stick around to help fix the messes they make.”

Louie looked down at his feet. “Good people don’t say the hurtful things I’ve said. Good people aren’t pickpockets. Good people don’t _throw their brothers down the stairs._ ”

“Good people can do bad things, Louie,” Scrooge interjected. “The difference between a good person and a bad person is that a good person acknowledges their errors and learns from them.”

Louie was still looking at his feet and didn’t reply. He _felt_ like a bad person. He _was_ a bad person. His family was only trying to convince him otherwise because they’re good people.

He didn’t deserve them.

 

\---

 

“General, sir, you asked to see me?”

Penumbra approached General Lunaris’ desk, behind which the general was seated. A map (a _war_ map) of the entire earth’s surface was laid out across the desk with various pins and strings haphazardly detailing Lunaris’ plan of attack.

“I did, Lieutenant. I’m planning a mission to earth. Duckburg, particularly. I believe that Duckburg is the perfect place to put our operational headquarters once it has been deatmospherized and our invasion has begun. I want to go down there and covertly scout the city, to make the logistics of our invasion that much easier.”

“But sir, doesn’t the city need to be deatmospherized first? How will you survive in earth’s atmosphere?”

Lunaris seemed to get momentarily lost in his thoughts, like he was contemplating something. “I have a confession to make, Lieutenant. What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room.”

“Of course, sir,” Penumbra replied. She didn’t know what she was about to hear, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

Lunaris tented his fingers. “The earthlings cannot survive on the surface of the moon, but Moonlanders have no issue with earth’s oxygen- and nitrogen-rich environment.”

It took Penumbra a second to fully realize the implications of what Lunaris had just told her. When she did, her eyes widened. “Sir, are you telling me that we could stage our troops on earth _without_ the deatmospherifier bombs?”

“This is _war_ , Lieutenant. If we don’t use every advantage we have, we will _lose_ and our people will be _enslaved!_ ”

“But all those people-”

“It will be a tragedy. A tragedy that I did everything in my power to avoid! But we must take the head off the snake before it has a chance to strike. This is the only way to ensure victory.”

_This must be stopped,_ Penumbra thought to herself. “I understand, sir,” she said aloud. She couldn’t help but sound a little unsure.

“Lieutenant, I completely understand your apprehension. But the Moonlanders, the people we serve, come before _anyone_ else. If others must be sacrificed to keep the Moonlanders safe, then it is our duty to make that sacrifice.” Lunaris stood and approached Penumbra, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “This is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life, but I know I’m making the right one.”

“For the moon,” Penumbra replied.

“For the moon,” Lunaris concurred. He returned to his end of the desk and sat back down. “So,” Lunaris said, “I am planning a trip to Duckburg, and I would like my second-in-command to accompany me, in case things begin to go sideways. Are you with me?”

“Of course, sir.” _This is my only chance to stop him._

“I’m happy to hear it, Lieutenant. We leave first thing in the morning.”

 

\---

 

The rest of the walk back to the Sunchaser was done in relative silence. Launchpad had them in the air almost immediately upon their arrival. Nobody had ever seen Launchpad as laser-focused as he was during that flight to Bogotá, the nearest city with a hospital equipped for Dewey’s injuries. He even managed to land the Sunchaser on an honest-to-god runway without incident. An ambulance was already positioned on the tarmac to receive Dewey within seconds of landing. Only one person was allowed to accompany him, so Della hopped in the ambulance while Scrooge called for a car to take everyone else to the hospital.

Louie had spent the entire flight with his hoodie over his head, not talking to anyone. Apparently Dewey had started communicating while they were in the air. It didn’t mean he was out of the woods, but it was a good sign. Louie was truly happy to hear it, but he wasn’t emotionally prepared to talk to Dewey yet. He felt much more comfortable sitting in a corner and blocking out all external stimulus. For the most part, he was left alone; he couldn’t have been more grateful for that.

There was some light conversation during the time the family spent in the waiting room at the hospital. Louie didn’t take any part in it. Della told everyone that the medical staff in the ambulance thought the probability of a full recovery was good. The mood seemed to change to one of cautious optimism.

Louie still felt like a bad person.

Eventually a tall dog in a white coat entered the waiting room, accompanied by a translator. The family was informed that Dewey had suffered a moderate concussion, as well as fractures to two ribs and his right hip. They found no evidence of any internal injuries other than the concussion, and the doctor seemed to emphasize just how lucky Dewey was. It was bad, but it could have been much worse.

Louie still felt like a bad person. His brother could have _died_ , and it would have been his fault. Dewey just got lucky.

The doctor confirmed what Della had been told: the likelihood of a full recovery was high. In fact, it would probably be okay for Dewey to fly the rest of the way back to Duckburg at that very moment, but they wanted to keep him overnight to be safe. Della agreed.

Scrooge made the decision to take Huey and Louie back to Duckburg so that they resume their search for Donald (after a rest, of course). He would charter a flight for Della and Dewey to join them once the boy was discharged.

On the flight home, Louie spent another few hours not speaking to anyone, sitting in a corner with his hoodie pulled over his head. At one point, Huey walked over and offered Louie his phone and some earbuds to listen to music with. Huey didn’t try to engage him in conversation, he just tried to make Louie comfortable.

Louie was grateful, but the act of kindness just confirmed what Louie was feeling: this family was too good for him. He didn’t deserve them.

At the crack of dawn the next morning, Louie slipped out of his bunk and grabbed Huey’s phone. He spent the next few minutes typing away in the notes app. When he was satisfied with what he’d written, he grabbed the piggy bank he shared with his brothers. There was easily enough cash for a cab and bus fare. He climbed out the bedroom window and down to the ground.

This was the only way he could ensure that he’d never hurt Dewey or anyone else in his family like that ever again. He knew they’d miss him, but they’d move on eventually. Heck, maybe they’d eventually realize that they really were better off without him. He could start a new life far away from Duckburg, in a place where his evil ways wouldn’t get the people he loved hurt. St. Canard was a place full of villainy, full of bad people. Louie was sure he’d fit right in out there.

_“Bad people don’t stick around to help fix the messes they make.”_

His mom was right. Louie knew that he was doing the one thing everyone had told him not to: he was fleeing from his problems. Good people don’t do that.

It was a very nice morning. The air was crisp, but not biting; Summer mornings in Duckburg tended to be fairly mild. Louie was lying across a bench as he waited for the bus to take him away. It was oddly comfortable. He almost felt like taking a nap on it, like he were some drifter.

At this point, he kind of was.

Nobody else was around. Louie had called a cab and intentionally had them take him to the most remote bus stop in Duckburg; he’d be less likely to be seen and, therefore, less likely to be found. It suddenly struck Louie that he was at the last place Uncle Donald had been seen alive. The thought made him bolt upright.

Louie glanced around. There was no sign of the bus. Louie was still alone. Despite the warmness of the morning sun, Louie shivered. He pulled his hoodie over his head.

“I always found your doting to be annoying, you know?” Louie said aloud. “I…”

Louie’s voice faltered. It felt odd to try to communicate with someone who very clearly was not around to hear what he had to say. What _did_ he have to say, anyway? Louie found himself struggling to find the right words to say in this one-person conversation.

“It’s crazy how quickly things fell apart once you disappeared, Uncle Donald.”

At that moment, something in the sky caught Louie’s attention. A shiny object of some kind was floating down to the ground. Louie was almost positive it was made of gold, but why would gold be floating down from the sky?

His mouth dropped when the shape of the object came into clear view. He and his siblings had spent enough time researching the Spear of Selene for him to instantly recognize it. But… this ship was made of gold? The Spear of Selene was decidedly _not_ made of gold. Louie, of all people, knew that for certain.

The spacecraft eventually disappeared behind the tree line, but it obviously landed very close by. Louie hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the better of him. He crossed the road and headed into the forest in the direction he’d seen the ship land.

 

\---

 

Goldie drove her jeep down the coastal highway leading out of Duckburg, deeply lost in her own thoughts. She had taken her sweet time getting back to Duckburg. She’d almost immediately found a black market auction on which to sell the Staff of the Caciques. The eventual buyer: some Brazilian oil baron who was surely going to mount the thing on his wall like it was just another trophy. Most would find it a massive tragedy that an object of such cultural and historical import would be relegated to the status of a hood ornament, but the only tragedy in Goldie’s mind was the unsatisfactory price the thing sold for at that auction.

She made up for it by scamming the pants off some bumbling baby-faced idiot who thought she was in love with him. Trust-fund babies tended to be the easiest targets: they were insanely rich, but also insanely incompetent. Most of them had inherited all their money. Goldie didn’t have much of a system of morals or beliefs, but one thing she did believe with a passion is that people should _earn_ their wealth. Nobody should be born into it. That’s a big reason why she resolved never to have children.

She and Scrooge had come to that decision together, in fact. Back when they were young. Back during the height of their business partnership (which was more of a comradely rivalry). Back when neither of them knew exactly what their relationship with each other was.

Before Scrooge’s sister and brother-in-law died. Before he took custody of the twins. Goldie still wasn’t entirely sure what their relationship was before that, but she was _very_ certain of what their relationship was after. Once Scrooge started raising those two ankle-biters, they quickly became much more important to him than she ever was.

Goldie and Scrooge grew apart. In fact, Goldie didn’t see Scrooge for twenty-five years before the whole incident at White Agony Plains. There, they didn’t get much a chance to catch up, but she had been legitimately happy to see the old miser out and about again. From what she’d heard, he’d become somewhat of a shut-in.

Then she learned that there was another generation of ducks (triplets, this time!) that were living in McDuck Manor. A new generation, a new set of children for him to raise into overly-capable but ill-adjusted adventurers. At first, she wanted nothing to do with the little brats. But then…

Louie started being persistent in reaching out to her and she saw an opportunity to use him as a tool for getting at Scrooge (to rob him, of course!). But then everything went to pot at the bar, and Louie stepped in and actually managed to save her. Then, as it turned out, he was fairly capable with magical artifacts. He also picked up pickpocketing very quickly. It was getting harder and harder to deny that she was having fun with the kid, even with his laziness and his annoying backtalk. It’s not like she was regretting her decision to not have kids, mind you! She was just learning that being around kids isn’t all that bad.

It was very unfortunate that things had to go the way they ended up going. Goldie wasn’t sure if Scrooge would _ever_ let her live this one down, even though it really wasn’t her fault. How could it be her fault? Sure, if you wanted to start assigning partial blame to everyone involved, there _might_ be some teeny tiny fraction of guilt that she bore, but Scrooge was placing far too much blame on her for what happened to the blue child. Unfortunately, that’s all that mattered, because Scrooge was the only one who could control whether or not she ever saw him or Louie or anyone else in that family ever again.

Maybe she and Scrooge (and maybe even Louie) would get a chance to connect again in another 25 years.

A sight in the sky caught Goldie’s attention. She thought she was hallucinating. She pulled her jeep over to the side of the road, stepped out of the car onto the shoulder of the highway, and discovered that she was not, in fact, hallucinating.

_Something_ was descending from the heavens, and it was made of _solid gold_. That’s all the information Goldie needed to decide that she was going to investigate. Goldie didn’t know what it was, but the thing looked like it was made of literal _tons_ of gold. It wasn’t every day that such a potentially massive payday just fell out of the sky.

Goldie locked her jeep and pressed into the forest in the direction the UFO had landed in. Something in the back of her mind was telling her to question what she’d seen, to think about what potential dangers could lay ahead. The thought of a payout drowned out all other thoughts like slot machines at a casino drown out all other noises.

And then, suddenly, a familiar sight: a green hoodie. And then, just as suddenly, an unfamiliar sight: an actual extraterrestrial alien. Goldie’s mind was still recovering and it took her a minute to process the strange scene in front of her.

There was Louie, in the middle of this random forest outside Duckburg, being held at gunpoint (with a _space_ gun) by a purple alien. Louie had his hands in the air, pleading not to be abducted because if he got abducted by aliens then he would “lose a bet.”

The scene made absolutely no sense. Goldie had no time to think about it. She needed to save the kid.

 

\---

 

_“Huey,_

_“I’m leaving. For good this time. I won’t be with Goldie or anyone else. I’m going to go to a place far away from Duckburg. Do not look for me._

_“I dragged this family through so much crap over the past few days, and not once have any of you tried to do anything but help me. Even after I nearly killed Dewey, you guys never stopped giving me love and support._

_“If you are all too stupid to see that I’ll never change, then I’ll do the smart thing and remove myself from the family. If I don’t, it’s only a matter of time before I do get somebody killed._

_“I love you all,_

_Louie Duck._

_“P.S.: I took the piggy bank. It had fifty-eight dollars and change in it. I’ll pay you and Dewey back somehow.”_

Huey put his phone down. “That’s the end of the message.”

Scrooge huffed. This was another headache that he didn’t need. He’d already put off two days of searching for Donald because of Louie, and it looked like he was going to have to sacrifice a third.

“The app on my phone says that the note was left a little more than a half hour ago,” Huey said. “He can’t have gone far.”

“We need to act fast,” Scrooge replied. “I’ll get some people on it. Eyes that can watch every route out of the city. We’ll have him home before lunch!”

“I hope you’re right, Uncle Scrooge.”

 

\---

 

The ground beneath Penumbra’s feet felt appropriately alien. Even with her combat boots on, the mess of dirt, rocks, and foliage made her feel off balance.

Just like everyone else on the moon, she’d studied the earth and its life forms in school growing up. She’d seen pictures of earth forests in her textbooks, but being up close and personal with a seemingly never-ending sea of pine trees was oddly daunting. She had never seen so much green in her life.

She was finding all the colors around her to be a little too much. It hurt her eyes. The color palate on the moon ranged from grey to dark grey, a color that was much easier on her retinas. Even so, Penumbra felt that the too-wide variety of color around her was something she could get used to. Heck, she might someday even love it.

“All this vibrancy is giving me a headache,” Lunaris complained. It seemed his mind was on a similar topic. “This place will be greatly improved by deatmospherization. The blueness of the sky makes me sick.”

Penumbra didn’t reply. Lunaris was talking about the deatmospherifier bombs like they were a home improvement tool. Like the bombs would just give the earth a fresh coat of paint instead of causing total annihilation.

Lunaris had modified the Spear of Selene’s design to allow for the transportation of weapons or vehicles between the moon and earth. Somewhere inside the massive spaceship, a helicopter had been stowed so that they could scope the city of Duckburg from the air. Lunaris (probably correctly) suspected that the citizenry would go into a panic if they saw a couple of Moonlanders strolling through the city.

“It’s going to take me a few minutes to get the helicopter ready, Lieutenant,” Lunaris said. “You need to find a clearing that I’ll be able to land at to pick you up.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” Penumbra replied. This was her chance. She was going to ditch her communication device somewhere so that Lunaris couldn’t track her, and then she was going to run to the city and warn as many people as she possibly could. They’d _have_ to believe an actual alien. Maybe with some time to prepare, someone on earth could stop Lunaris’ plans (or, at the very least, mitigate the casualties).

Penumbra began to move through the forest in the direction of the city. As she moved around one side of a large tree, she nearly collided with something traveling the opposite direction.

Startled, Penumbra’s instant reaction was to point her stun ray at the thing that nearly ran into her. The moon had some incredibly dangerous wildlife and she had absolutely no idea if the same was true of earth.

“Ahh!” The creature screamed, throwing its arms in the air. “Don’t shoot!”

It was a child. A duck child. Penumbra thought that he had a striking resemblance to Della. She had no idea what he was doing in this relatively remote forest.

“Of course it’d be aliens,” the child began to say to himself, “of course! Just my luck.” The child made eye contact with Penumbra. “I promise to forget everything I saw if you let me go!” he pleaded. “If I get abducted by aliens I lose a bet with my brother! Please!”

“Little boy, calm down,” Penumbra whispered, lowering her weapon and kneeling down to Louie’s height. “Actually, scratch that, you need to be worried. You need to head into town and warn everyone-”

At that moment, a boot collided with the side of Penumbra’s head and she was seeing stars.

“Gotcha!”

_“Goldie?”_

Penumbra found herself pinned face-down by an unknown assailant. She struggled against whoever or whatever was restraining her to no avail.

“Wrong place, wrong time, you alien freak! What do you want with a child anyway?”

The voice was feminine. Maybe the boy’s mother?

“Get off me!” Penumbra grunted. She was dizzy; that kick to the head had been extremely effective. “I have an important message that I _need_ to deliver to earth! You need to warn _everyone,_ there is going to be an invasion from the moon-”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that one…” the woman interrupted, pushing Penumbra’s face harder into the ground. “Listen, alien. I don’t care where you come from, or if _‘you come in peace,’_ or whatever! Leave our planet alone, or else-”

Penumbra heard the unmistakable sound of a stun ray being fired, followed by a pained wail. The weight pinning her to the ground lifted.

_“Goldie!”_ the little duck yelled. As Penumbra began to lift herself from the ground, she turned to find General Lunaris with his stun ray trained on the child, who again had his hands in the air. The thing that had been pinning her to the ground turned out to be an elderly woman, another duck. Penumbra was surprised at the strength of someone who looked so old.

“Lieutenant, are you alright?” Lunaris yelled.

“I’m fine, General, sir,” Penumbra replied. She wasn’t entirely certain that she was telling the truth: her ears were still ringing and she was still fairly dizzy.

“Looks like our little trip to earth is getting cut short,” Lunaris said deviously. “I can’t believe our luck, Lieutenant! Do you know who this child is?”

“No idea, sir,” Penumbra replied. She heard the child audibly gulp.

“Which one of the three are you? Louie, correct? Louie Duck?” Lunaris asked of the duckling.

Louie didn’t immediately respond. Lunaris fired a stun bolt at his feet, causing him to jump and scream. “Yes! Yes! That’s me! I’m Louie Duck!”

Lunaris laughed. “What are the odds? _Another_ one of Scrooge McDuck’s family members!”

“What do you mean, _another_ one?” Louie asked.

It was at that moment that it clicked in Penumbra’s mind: this child reminded her of Della because he was Della’s _son_. One of the three that she would never shut up about while she was rebuilding her spacecraft.

Lunaris, strolling towards Goldie but keeping his weapon trained on Louie, said, “You’re coming with us, child. Start walking.” He then scooped Goldie’s unconscious body up and threw her over his shoulder. “I don’t know who this is. If she doesn’t turn out to be useful in any way, we can just get rid of her.”

The walk back to the spaceship was short. It was no wonder that Lunaris had heard the commotion and came to Penumbra’s aid. She was losing her chance to warn earth. If she didn’t think of something quickly…

Penumbra suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She nearly fell over. That kick to the head must’ve done some damage.

“We need to get you to a doctor. We’re going back home,” Lunaris said. He turned back toward the child. “Go up the ramp,” Lunaris commanded, waving his gun. “Move.” The child was surprisingly calm. He was being abducted by aliens and he seemed more annoyed than anything.

Penumbra realized that she was not going to be able to slip away. She’d missed her opportunity here. She needed to stay in Lunaris’ good graces. She just prayed that she’d have another opportunity to stop him before irreparable damage could be done.

Louie, for his part, felt like he was getting what he deserved. He was trying to start a new life far from Duckburg, and how much further could you get from Duckburg than outer space? He didn’t know what was going to happen next. Would he be forced into a life of servitude as a slave to alien overlords? Whatever. Maybe it’d teach him some discipline. He felt bad for getting Goldie dragged into all this, and the fact that the bigger alien knew exactly who he was was a tad ominous, but mostly, he felt like this result was karmically justifiable. He deserved it for the things he’d done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louie and Donald are reunited under less-than-perfect circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Again. Here's the penultimate chapter. I promised that I'd finish this story and I'm a man of my word. Exciting things are coming, folks! You'll probably have to wait another month and a half for the last chapter, though. Sorry, I'm just being realistic.
> 
> Thanks a million for the kudos and comments and everything. It means so much to me that anybody would care about this dumb little story of mine. Happy Thanksgiving to anybody reading from the states! And happy holidays to everyone else!

_“Ugh.”_

Pain. Holy moly, so much pain. Goldie didn’t immediately remember what had knocked her out, but she wished she had just stayed unconscious. Every muscle in her body felt sore. She needed to go grab an aspirin. Or maybe a bottle of whiskey. Or maybe both, despite the warning labels.

The fuzziness in Goldie’s vision slowly evaporated, and she realized that she was in a very unfamiliar place. She was laying on some sort of metal flooring. The lighting seemed very artificial. A row of large chairs with some sort of advanced restraining system were attached to one of the walls. Then she saw the bars. Goldie had been in enough cells to recognize one instantly. Everything began to come back to her.

“Louie!” Goldie yelled, bolting upright. Just sitting up caused a great deal of discomfort.

“I’m here, Goldie. I’m sorry, by the way.”

Goldie snapped her head in the direction of the voice. There was Louie, still wearing his signature green hoodie, splayed out flat on his back on the metal floor. “Louie, are you alright? Where are we? And what are you apologizing for?”

There was apathy in Louie’s eyes. Well, Louie always looked apathetic, but this was different. He looked thoroughly defeated. Like he’d finally given up.

Louie sighed. “For getting you all wrapped up in… well, whatever’s about to happen. You don’t deserve this.”

With some effort, Goldie brought herself to her feet. She shook out her legs and did a few wide arm circles, hoping they would get her muscles to start agreeing to her brain’s instructions. The pain and soreness was definitely still there, but it was manageable.

Goldie walked over to where Louie was laying. The duckling’s eyes momentarily moved toward her before he returned to staring at the ceiling. Goldie stood over him for a few moments.

“Pathetic. You really _have_ already given up!”

Goldie leaned down and grabbed Louie underneath his shoulders, lifting him to his feet. _“Hey!”_ Louie protested without doing anything to resist it. Once he had been forced to his feet, Louie didn’t see any point in expending the energy to lay back down. He quickly dusted himself off, stuffing his hands into his hoodie’s pocket before turning to look up at Goldie. “Yeah, I don’t care at all anymore. So what? I’ve spent the past week or so doing one of two things: either committing acts of evil or avoiding responsibility for those acts. This seems like an appropriate way to cap it all off. I’m getting what I deserve.”

_“Scrooge really needs to find this boy a therapist,”_ Goldie said under her breath. Louie raised an eyebrow, apparently having heard the statement, but otherwise did not react. “Now, come on, Louie. Let’s find a way out of here.”

“Good luck with that,” came a deep voice from the other side of the bars. Lunaris was standing outside the cell with a victorious look on his face. “I’ve escape-proofed this room myself. You're not going to find a way out.”

“Yea, we’ll see about that, you Martian freak.” Goldie taunted.

“Martian? No _‘Martian’_ could accomplish what I have accomplished. What I _will_ accomplish. You and your fellow earthlings have _no_ idea-”

Lunaris suddenly stopped speaking. An amused smile stretched across his face. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to buy yourself some time by getting me to do my ‘evil’ monologue. That’s not going to work.” From one of his pockets, the Moonlander produced a small purple box and tossed it between the bars into the cell. “I recommend you each take one. I also recommend you get yourself secured in the launch seats along the wall there. We’ll be taking off shortly.” Lunaris turned and began to walk away from the cell, his posture rigid like a true soldier.

Goldie ran to the bars, screaming a string of curses at Lunaris’ back. The general paused, turning around slowly and walking back to the cell.

“Who are you, anyway?” Lunaris asked. “Do you have any relation to Scrooge McDuck? Will you be in any way useful to me?” Lunaris leaned inward. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t stuff you in the airlock and jettison you into space.”

“Go jump off a bridge!” Goldie spat back. “I’m not gonna tell you jack!”

Lunaris chuckled. “All I asked for was one reason I shouldn’t kill you. If you can’t provide that, well…”

“I’m a much harder-to-kill person than you think, bub,” Goldie replied.

“So there’s nothing extraordinary about you?” Lunaris asked. “You don’t know Scrooge McDuck at all? You’re not a family member? A friend?”

“Scrooge has had a lot of stalkers in his day, but you’re totally the creepiest,” Goldie taunted.

“So you do know him. Are you an employee of his? A contractor?” Lunaris continued. “I’m not going to keep guessing forever. I might as well just kill you.” Lunaris produced his stun ray, pointing it through the bars of his cell directly at Goldie’s head. She continued to stare him down without blinking. “You have three seconds to give me a good reason not to condemn you to the cold void of space. Three…”

“You don’t scare me, you nitwit!” Goldie shouted back.

“Two…”

Goldie didn’t back down. “You’re going to regret the moment that you decided to mess with me!” Louie was growing increasingly nervous. She was letting her ego get the best of her. Louie couldn’t just let her get herself killed; that would ultimately be his fault. He needed to think of something.

“One…”

“She’s Scrooge’s mistress!” Louie blurted out.

“Scrooge’s _what?!_ ” Lunaris and Goldie both exclaimed incredulously.

“Your life isn’t worth keeping Scrooge’s secrets safe, Goldie!” Louie yelled, giving Goldie a subtle look as if to tell her _‘play along, stupid!’_

Goldie seemed to get the message. Her body language changed from aggressive to defensive, but Louie knew that it was an act.

“Kid,” Goldie scolded, “I can handle myself. Don’t get involved.”

“His _mistress,_ huh?” Lunaris said contemplatively. He slowly holstered his weapon. “There just might be some use for you, yet.” Lunaris gestured to the purple box he’d thrown into the cell earlier. “As I said, we’ll be taking off shortly. If you’re not ready, that’s not my problem.”

Lunaris turned and started walking away. Within moments, Goldie was again up against the bars of the cell, screaming furious nothings at the man well after he’d disappeared from sight.

Louie walked over to the purple box that the alien had tossed into the cell. Before he was close enough to pick it up, Louie saw the McDuck Enterprises seal on the box. _That’s ominous,_ Louie thought. He quickly grabbed the thing off the ground, curiously turning it over and reading the box.

“Oxy-Chew, the gum that provides oxygen while you chew…” Louie recited. He struggled for a second trying to get his fingers around one of the foil-wrapped sticks in the box, eventually managing to free one.

Louie turned his attention away from the box. “Goldie,” he said. Goldie, for her part, was still hopelessly yelling insults through the bars of the cell.

_“Goldie!”_

The older duck finally stopped yelling, turning toward Louie, looking positively incensed. Louie tossed the stick of gum over to her. “My mom was telling me about this stuff. We’re gonna need it if we wanna breathe in space. And we should probably get in those launch chairs along the wall if we don’t want to be flattened by the force of the launch,” Louie said matter-of-factly. He sauntered over to the nearest chair, hoisting himself up into it. “We’ll have to figure out an escape plan later. For now, we just gotta do what we need to do to survive.”

Goldie ran her palms down her face like she was trying to wipe away the furious look. “Thanks, Louie.” As she marched over to the seat next to Louie’s, Goldie popped the gum in her mouth. Louie watched as Goldie’s expression switched from rage to disgust like a light switch.

“I know, right?” Louie offered with a weak chuckle, “This might be the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“ _Seriously?_ Black licorice?” Goldie replied, nearly gagging. “This is the work of psychopaths!”

“Well, it was commissioned by Uncle Scrooge and developed by Gyro, so you’re not wrong,” Louie said as he secured the last belt around himself. “And apparently we should get used to it; mom was saying that the flavor lasted for the entire decade she was stuck on the moon. All the food she eats still tastes a little bit like black licorice.”

A disconcerted look darted across Goldie’s face. “I’d rather die than live like that, Louie,” she stated with deadly seriousness. Louie couldn’t tell if she was joking. “We need to figure out how to escape back to earth as soon as we can.” Louie stared blankly back at Goldie, not sure how to respond.

“I hope you two are comfortable,” came Lunaris’ voice over the intercom system, “liftoff is in ten seconds.”

Goldie turned her head toward Louie, who had his eyes closed as he mentally prepared himself for _literally blasting off into space._

“Hey, thanks for saving my butt back there, kiddo,” Goldie said softly. “I get a certain way when I’m angry.”

“Don’t mention it, Goldie.”

 

\---

 

The Moonlanders were no longer taking any chances. Donald was bound in a full strait jacket after his explosive performance during Lunaris’ speech. He’d already managed to free his arms, and had spent the last several hours trying to figure out how to get his legs unchained from the bench he’d been set upon.

Even the blinding rage of thinking about Lunaris’ threat against his family wasn’t enough to break free. More than once, Donald realized just how hopeless his situation was. Then he’d think about what that meant for his family, all of whom were blissfully unaware that death was coming for them.

He wouldn’t give up. He _couldn’t_ give up.

“Tsk, tsk, earthling,” said a familiar voice. Donald hadn’t even seen Lunaris approaching his cell. He could feel the rage building up. It wouldn’t be long until it boiled over. He hadn’t punished Lunaris nearly enough for threatening the lives’ of his family. Lunaris continued, “I can see that you’ve been hard at work on an escape plan. You thought I wouldn’t notice? Well, let me help out with that…”

Lunaris produced a small device with a button on it. As soon as he pressed it, all of Donald’s restraints simply fell off. Donald was free to move freely. He almost found it insulting, that his enemy would simply undo his restraints after he’d spent so much time trying to get them off himself. He was immediately at the bars of his cell, screeching incoherently and sticking his arms between the bars and fruitlessly clawing at Lunaris, who was _just_ out of reach.

“I show you hospitality and this is how you act?” Lunaris scoffed. “You earthlings are barbarians!”

“You will not hurt my family!” Donald screamed.

“Who’s going to stop me? You?” Lunaris mocked. Donald continued to claw at Lunaris through the bars of his cell to no effect. Lunaris just stared at the duck with contempt.

“You will not… hurt… my family,” Donald repeated breathlessly, obviously beginning to tire.

Lunaris crouched down to Donald’s height, lowering his voice to a menacing rumble. “You keep saying that, earthling, but even someone as dim as you must know that I’ve already won.” Lunaris stood and turned his back to Donald. “Speaking of family: I have a surprise for you, earthling. I hope you’ll find it pleasant. Maybe it will give you some comfort before I destroy everything you hold dear. You can’t say I’m not a benevolent host.”

Donald heard the sound of a door opening some distance away, followed by the increasingly noisy cacophony of many pairs of boots and angry yelling. A shrill female voice seemed to pierce through all the noise.

“Before we escape, I’m going to _personally_ teach each and every one of you buffoons a lesson!”

“Shut up, lady,” a man responded. Surely one of the guards.

Lunaris turned back to Donald. “That woman is a handful. I’m not sure if she’s really worth keeping around.”

“Woman?” Donald replied.

_“Open the cell!”_ somebody commanded.

Before Donald could react, the door to his cell was opened and two figures were unceremoniously tossed inside before the door was once again locked.

Goldie still wasn’t done. She was almost immediately up against the bars of the cell, screaming after Lunaris and the guards as they left. “Get back here you no-good alien freaks! You’re all going to be sorry!” Louie had landed rather roughly on his behind, electing to stay seated instead of rushing to the bars of the cell like Goldie did. He watched with half-apathy, half-amusement as Goldie continued to scream like she had been for the past half hour.

Donald couldn’t believe his eyes. He struggled to find his voice. “L-Louie?”

Hearing his own name caught Louie off guard. Especially in _that_ voice. He was certain he was hallucinating. Louie turned his head.

He wasn’t hallucinating. Or, if he was, this hallucination was extra vivid. Louie didn’t really care. A wellspring of emotion was bubbling up inside of him. It was overwhelming. Everything seemed fake. It felt like he was dreaming.

Louie tried to speak, but no words came out. At least his legs worked. Louie sprinted across the cell and into his uncle’s arms, burying his face in Donald’s sailor shirt. He wrapped his Uncle in the tightest hug he’d ever given, silently crying into his chest.

Donald had a lot of questions, but now wasn’t the time to ask them. He picked his boy up and embraced him, expending all the effort in the world to stop himself from breaking into tears as well. Louie continued to weep into Donald’s shoulder.

After some time spent in a wordless embrace, Donald set Louie down. He immediately felt the urge to hug his boy again, but he had too many questions that needed answering. Louie had calmed somewhat, and was wiping away the streaks of tears that had fallen down his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Louie, how did you get here?” Donald asked. “Where are your brothers? And Della? She found her way back, right? And Scrooge? Were they all captured too?”

“Huey and Dewey and mom and Scrooge are all still in Duckburg. They all think I ran away. Well, I did, but I never intended to run _this_ far,” Louie replied somewhat nervously. “Wait, how do you know about mom?”

“Long story, Louie. First, I need to know why you ran away.” Louie’s face fell, and Donald could tell something very bad had happened. “It’s okay, Louie. Whatever the reason, it’s something the family can work out.”

Louie sighed. “It’s bad, Uncle Donald. It’s really bad. And it’s all my fault.” Louie walked over to the nearest wall and sat down against it. “You might as well take a seat, too, Uncle Donald. It’s a long story. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“At the beginning?” Donald replied.

“Sure, why not. Start with the easy stuff and build up to the really bad stuff,” Louie murmured. The duckling leaned his head on one hand. “Well, it all started about a week ago. When we all learned that you never showed up at the resort…”

And so Louie told his uncle everything. Donald patiently listened to the whole story, grimacing at a few details but otherwise remaining calm. As the story continued, however, Goldie could see Donald glaring at her more and more frequently with more and more anger. She sat on the opposite end of the room, watching Louie spill his heart out to his uncle. She knew that the best thing would be to distance herself from this conversation. It was interesting to hear the kid’s unfiltered take on everything that had happened over the past few days. If Goldie didn’t know any better, she’d almost think that she was moved by it.

“And so I started running up the stairs to get away from him. But Dewey’s more athletic, he caught up to me pretty quickly and…” Louie couldn’t finish the sentence. He’d done pretty well keeping his composure up until this point, but trying to talk about what he did to his brother was just too much. “And I-” Louie tried again, but his voice was cut off by a lump in his throat.

“What happened, Louie?” Donald asked, his voice betraying the distress he was feeling.

Louie was once again fully in tears, simply nodding in response to Uncle Donald’s question. “I… I di- didn’t m-mean t-to…” Louie choked out. Louie dropped his head and continued to cry. Donald, who had managed to stay calm through all of Louie’s story so far – through the incident at the bar, through all the pickpocketing stuff, through the police chase, everything – was beginning to get agitated.

“Louie, is your brother okay? What happened? Where is Dewey now?”

“He’s probably back at the mansion resting. The doctor said he’ll be fine, but I knocked him down the stairs. I hurt him bad, Uncle Donald. I messed up. I really messed up. I had to run away before I got somebody killed. I’m too evil to be a part of a family as good as ours.”

Donald knelt down and wrapped Louie in another hug, stroking down the back of his head, trying to calm him down. “Louie, your mistakes only define you if you let them define you,” Donald said softly. He pulled away from the hug, grasping Louie’s shoulders at arm’s-length. “What you did was bad, Louie, but not unforgiveable. I bet your brothers are worried about you right now. They already miss you. Even Dewey. _Especially_ Dewey. He’s clingier than he lets on.”

“I wish I could believe that, Uncle Donald,” Louie muttered back. “Did you even listen to my story? What I’ve been up to for the past week? Huey and Dewey are good boys. They would never do the things I’ve done.”

“Louie, I was the sole guardian for you and your brothers for a decade. All three of you get up to uniquely bone-headed things on a regular basis. I know more about each of you than you know about each other! I know things about each of you that you think are well-guarded secrets.” A wry smile crept across Donald’s face, a look that left Louie slightly unsettled. “I even know about your online cat-sona, Louie.”

Louie’s face paled and he took a few steps back. He heard a bit of sniggering from Goldie on the other end of the room. “Oh… Oh _no,_ ” Louie fumbled out. Louie subconsciously let out a nervous chuckle. “Should I just spit the gum out and die now, or should I just wait for the moon people to execute us?”

“Don’t talk like that, Louie,” Donald scolded. “It’s really not that embarrassing. Huey and Dewey have their not-well-enough-hidden secrets too. You should see some of the things that Dewey has recorded to those tapes. He’s done a lot worse than Dewey Dew-night.”

“Tapes?” Louie asked.

“I’ve already said too much,” Donald replied with a chortle. “My point is that everyone in our family is far from perfect. We’ve each done bad things, we each have our weird little quirks. We’ll still always stick together. We’ll still always love each other. That’s what families do. That’s what family _is._ ”

“But-” Louie began.

“But nothing, Louie. You’re really putting _way too much blame on yourself_.” Donald shot a scowl in Goldie’s direction as he said those words. Goldie furrowed her brow in response.

“Oh, I am _not_ going to hear this from you too. None of this is my fault!” Goldie bellowed.

“ _‘None’_ of this is your fault? You’re in denial!” Donald screeched back. “Who hid my boy from his family? Who took him to the city and taught him how to be a pickpocket? _Who gave a literal child a dangerous magical glove?_ ”

“What does that… I don’t…” Goldie stuttered.

Donald crossed the room and approached Goldie. “I noticed a few interesting details when Louie was telling me his story. Why didn’t you try to help him out when he was being chased by police? You never really cared what happened to the boy as long as nobody got hurt! The impression I’ve gotten is that you were taking advantage of a ten-year-old for your own ends, for your own enjoyment, and as soon as something went terribly wrong, you tried to clean your hands of the whole thing! The majority of the blame for what happened lies _directly_ on your shoulders, and you refuse to accept it!”

“Screw this!” Goldie screamed, violently kicking a small rock across the cell. “Get out of my face, you lispy dork!”

“You’re not telling me that I’m wrong!” Donald replied.

“Alright, _I’m sorry!_ I’m freakin’ sorry! Is that what you want to hear?!”

Donald did not reply right away. A heavy silence fell over the room. Goldie sighed exasperatedly. “Louie,” Goldie began, her tone sounding almost crushed. “This week was a lot of fun, but I knew from the beginning that our partnership was not going to be a permanent thing. Family ties are much stronger than business ties. I…”

Goldie paused as she struggled to find her words. She began to walk the short distance across the cell toward Louie, but Donald grabbed the duckling and shuffled him behind himself.

“Oh, come on, let me talk to the boy. What, you think I’m gonna steal him?” Goldie spat.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Donald shot back. Still, he moved aside, letting Goldie approach Louie.

“Kid,” Goldie started, reaching out her hand to ruffle up Louie’s hairfeathers, “it was never personal. You ended up being a lot more capable than I expected! But I knew that our arrangement wouldn’t be permanent; not because I wanted to break it off, but because I knew you’d eventually get homesick.”

Goldie knelt down to Louie’s height. “You’ll do much better sticking around with Scrooge and your family than you will with me. I’ve chosen the path that I walk, and I really don’t recommend it. I have literally hundreds of bounties on my head! Many people have tried to collect, and I never know when someone is going to try. I never know when someone is going to _succeed_. The fact that I’m still alive today is just as attributable to luck as it is to my own skill. And from hanging out with you for just a few days, I can tell that luck is something that you definitely _do not_ have. No offense.”

“None taken. I’m aware of my luck. Well, my lack of it. I take after my uncle here,” Louie replied, gesturing with his thumb toward his Uncle Donald. Goldie gave a light smile in response. She sighed again, then looked Louie in the eyes, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Scrooge has just as many bounties on his head, too. But he has something that I’ll never have: a family around him to fight with him and _for_ him. And all the members of your family get that mutual protection too, whether it’s you, or your brothers, or your mom, or your uncles. Yeah, the fact that I get to do whatever I want solely for myself is pretty cool, but it’s very easy to make mistakes when you don’t have anyone holding you accountable. You found that out the hard way. Hanging out with me is a good way to get rich, but life is about much more than that for people like you.”

Goldie watched as Louie’s gaze fell to the floor. He processed her words for a moment. Before she could react, he had his arms around her in a tight hug. She recoiled for just a moment, unsure of how to respond. Awkwardly, she returned the gesture, wrapping one of her arms around the boy.

“Thanks, Goldie.”

“Any time, kid,” Goldie replied. “By the way, I don’t really do the whole hugging thing. That’s not going to happen again.”

“Sure, gotcha.”

A feminine voice came from the entrance to the cell. Unnoticed, Penumbra had entered the cell block. “Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting something, but in case you’re unaware, we have to go save your world.”


End file.
